


Is there somewhere?

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Doctor Who, Whouffaldi - Fandom
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-12-09 10:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Set in Series 8.  After the Doctor's latest regeneration, he and Clara are still trying to get used to one another again, and to get used to her new relationship with Danny Pink.  Mutually baffled about how the other one feels, the Doctor and Clara soon face a mystery and an adventure that will bring the answers to the surface.





	1. Promises, promises

“Miss?” The young voice repeated, confused, and not for the first time. Clara blinked as one of her students’ faces came back into focus. Standing there with her chalk in one hand and her notes in the other, Clara tried to remember the question. That was the problem; if you didn’t have the question, the answers were useless.

“I’m so sorry, Elaine, what were you asking?” The class all laughed good-naturedly and made Clara realize they were actually starting to get used to their teacher being distracted on a regular basis. She smiled sheepishly, appreciating their affection and patience. She cleared up Elaine’s confusion about today’s topics and then gave the students a group activity to work on for a bit.

Clara sat down and tried to rearrange her state of mind, get it back to something approximating normalcy. No. Not going to happen. She clucked her tongue and half-smiled at her own silliness. God, when was it going to end? Truth was, she didn’t want it to. That’s why feelings like hers were called bittersweet, right?

She couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the Doctor, that was her trouble. He was different now, since the regeneration. His feelings for her seemed to have shifted strangely, the way he looked at her sat differently in her stomach, and she just couldn’t put it all together. But why did it matter? The Doctor had said it himself: he was not her boyfriend. Clara *had* a boyfriend; she had Danny and he was wonderful. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about the Doctor, just for thirty bloody seconds, at least?

The way the Doctor’s breath caught when he laughed, the mystery in his gaze, the excitement that filled her when she opened up one more chink in his armor, almost large enough to press a kiss into. The unending, thick tension in the air between them that seemed to make everything that used to be simple and natural between them awkward, and yet exhilaratingly suspenseful. Clara rolled her head around her shoulders to relieve some of the stiffness there, sighed, and pressed her fingers to her forehead.

A knock at the window made her startle, but she already knew what she’d see before she cast her eyes in that direction. The Doctor nodded succinctly and then motioned in a beckoning way, and her heartbeat sped up even as her temper prickled. Really? She was working now. As if she had nothing else going on in her life and was just waiting around for him to show up. At least, that was how she *should* feel, and not elated or as if lightning was suddenly coursing through her veins. As usual, Clara did her best to respond as she ought to.

She prepared a molten glare to throw back at him, but he’d disappeared, of course. Impossible man. She gathered her papers and waited for the bell, tapping her foot impatiently. “Thanks, everyone, see you tomorrow,” Clara cooed with feigned enthusiasm. Why did her “regular” life just seem like a waiting room sometimes? It was damned annoying.

Well, she was in a mood, that was all. Clara assured herself that this bizarre combination of emotions would surely subside. She’d done everything she could to balance this irresistible addiction she had to traveling with the Doctor with a healthy, proper life in the “real world.” It had to even out, it had to work because Clara had promised herself as much. She wasn’t quite sure what she would do otherwise.

“Come on, come on!” The Doctor urged in a whisper-scream when she finally made her way outside. He scrambled to the TARDIS and she shrugged, following. 

“Oh, is that some kind of a fancy outfit?” He asked as Clara slipped into the TARDIS. She looked down at her maroon, scoop-necked, long-sleeved dress, worn with black stockings and ankle boots. Clara liked how soft and comfortable the material was, the way the skirt draped lower in the back and the sleeves were long enough to pull over her palms for added warmth. 

*I dress up everyday just in case I see you,* Clara thought, erasing the idea from her expression and replacing it with a casual smile. “Nah, just everyday Clara wear. Why, do you like it?”

“It’s alright, if you don’t mind all that red,” He replied, somewhat confusedly. Clara’s eyes narrowed.

*I am such an idiot*, she accused herself in her mind.

*************************************************************************************

*I am a total idiot,* The Doctor thought, infuriated with himself. Ever since he’d regenerated, talking to Clara had gone from the easiest thing in the world to a challenge of Herculean proportions. He opened his mouth to say something quite nice and small-talky and out came whatever was the worst possible statement that could ever be.

*Don’t look at her, that’ll fix it,* he’d told himself when she came in looking stunning like that, *don’t look at her eyes, they’re the worst,* the most devastatingly beautiful part of Clara. Or maybe it was her mouth and thinking what it might taste like, or her lovely skin and shining brunette hair, or — *God, don’t look at her body, no, there’s cleavage, definitely don’t look at her. And avoid the legs!* Naturally, he couldn’t stop looking at Clara, and then he’d gone and blurted something about her outfit and ended up with no idea what was going on.

“Try not to let it bother you,” She suggested warily, replying to his last nonsensical comment about red, and he just wanted to find the nearest cliff and hurl himself off of it.  
Regenerate into someone who could put a sentence together in the presence of the most amazing and charming and brilliant woman in the universe.

“So what’s going on?” Clara continued, hand perched on one hip and an eyebrow raised in curiosity mingled with slight exhaustion at his continual antics.

He had no idea why she kept coming back to him. He’d been a mess for months.

The Doctor had realized almost immediately that this new incarnation of him felt every emotion with a painful intensity which was almost too much to bear. It was going to take a very long time to get used to the onslaught of pure, naked feelings pulling him left and right until he didn’t know which end was up or how to cope. He’d never felt like this in his long life before. And of course, when he was with the person he cared for most, he felt the most. 

And here he was, having turned into a man with an older appearance, too old surely for Clara to ever want to be as close with him as she was before. It added a troubling dimension to their whole dynamic. All Clara had probably wanted to do when she saw the “new him” was make clear the notion of their now-definitely-platonic relationship. Good thing, then, that he’d said it first, gone ahead and made her understand that he knew it had to be that way. The Doctor didn’t think he could have stood there, listening to her explain why she wasn’t going to want to go about acting like lovestruck puppies as they did before. Not when Clara didn’t even know who he was anymore.

All in all, it was a very bad combination of issues, and having to smile and nod through her pleasant, steady, good-for-her relationship with Danny Pink might be the hardest part of all. Still, if that was what Clara needed, then nothing mattered more.

“Nothing,” The Doctor replied with an attempt at nonchalance. “I brought you this.” He held out a shining silver plastic take-out container from the planet Marciplus IV and savored the surprised look of interest that came over Clara’s face.

“Oh, hello there,” Clara said to the scrumptious-looking slice of chocolate cake that lay nestled in the box. 

“I’ve just got back from the home of the universe’s most exquisite desserts,” the Doctor explained, masking his inner excitement at her pleased reaction, putting his hands in his pockets and walking back and forth quite unnecessarily. “They’re absolutely obsessed with chocolate and perfecting it to the last detail, and that made me think of you because you said you loved chocolate,” he realized he was babbling, “I mean, you don’t have to take it, or you could give it to Danny! Or, you could split it with Danny. That’s what you humans like to do right? It’s just like that adorable, preposterous movie with the dogs that share the spaghetti. I mean, unless neither one of you wants it—”

“Doctor, really,” Clara laughed, licking frosting from her finger, an image that made him struggle to breathe for a moment. “Who wouldn’t want this? Thank you, this is very sweet of you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” She assured him, free of any of the conflicted and mildly irritated vibes she’d been giving off before. “Don’t you want some? Do you have some forks?”

“Forks,” The Doctor muttered, “Right.” Wait, what did this mean? Was Clara asking *him* to be a silly, food-sharing dog with her? That was amazing, that was the best thing that ever happened, and what was he thinking? Of course she was just being overly polite because he’d given her something nice.

He went and procured a fork, which he handed to her with a sad smile. “I’m full, I spent far too long in that place. They almost never stop trying to feed me there, ever since I untangled the rings around their planet, long story.”

Clara shrugged again. “Your loss.”

“Clara?” A voice called from the schoolyard outside the TARDIS, and they both froze, Clara with the fork halfway to her lips, her feet crossed at the ankles as she sat in her second home with a sense of serenity finally sinking into her pores, and the Doctor fidgeting with the control panel as if he was doing something Important when really, he was just looking back over his shoulder to see her enjoy the dessert.

“Danny,” Clara remarked, looking…weirdly guilty was the assessment the Doctor arrived at, though he didn’t understand.

“You’ve got to go, must have a big night planned, with your fancy red outfit and your boots and all,” the Doctor suggested, resisting the urge to slap himself in the forehead immediately thereafter.

“They’re just boots,” Clara replied dismissively. “And we’re only going to the pub and to see a film.”

“Sounds like fun,” he managed, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty, a blend of reactions as uneven and inconsistent as the rest of him.

“Yeah,” Clara said simply, but she wasn’t smiling, she was just standing there looking at him with the closed container of cake clasped in her hands, her big eyes asking him something he couldn’t begin to translate.

“Right?”

“Right,” She concluded. Clara made it to the door of the TARDIS before she looked back over her shoulder, tentative. “Will I see you soon? Just come and get me, will you?” 

The Doctor grinned, well-aware that this was the best he’d felt all day, just hearing her say that, just sensing her sincerity in the words. “Yeah.”


	2. Giving me away

But the Doctor didn’t come back to Clara, not for two weeks, which wasn't all that unusual; merely disappointing. But once a month had gone by with no contact, Clara knew something must be wrong and began to worry. If Danny had noticed her restlessness before, now he was doubly aware and had even started behaving a bit uncomfortable himself. Danny came over one day to find her at the kitchen table, poring over books and folders filled with evidence and information.

“Still nothing?” He sighed, clearly disappointed that his girlfriend was again thoroughly absorbed with thoughts of another man, though Danny was also concerned for the Doctor’s safety.

“Not sure,” Clara murmured, “Sometimes the history books go a bit askew when the Doctor’s been caught up in especially big problem. He leaves clues intentionally, or else circumstances force him to leave more of a mark than he would do voluntarily. I haven’t found anything yet, but I’ll keep looking.”

“Ever think maybe he just…moved on?” Danny wondered, pouring Clara a cup of coffee and putting a hand on her shoulder gently.

“No, he wouldn’t do that,” she answered instantly, her eyes still glued to her research, her fingers drumming the table in an outpouring of nervous energy.

“Right,” Danny replied, backing away slightly. “Look, Clara, I think I’d better leave you to it.”

“You’re leaving?” She asked, turning around and looking up at him, not exactly surprised, but feeling a painful twinge of guilt at being so distracted and having so little time for Danny since the Doctor had gone missing.

“Yeah, look, if there’s anything I can do to help, you just let me know, and I’ll be there. But this? You and me? It’s getting a bit absurd at this point, really, Clara. I’m sorry.” Danny’s words were dripping with frustrated disappointment.

“Why? What in the world do you mean?” Clara tried to take Danny’s hands, but he pulled them away. Instead, he went to the table and picked up a pile of papers, holding them up not accusingly, but as simple evidence.

“Because, Clara.” 

He went into the bedroom and came back out with the two shoeboxes which Clara had filled with momentos and photos from her travels with the Doctor, every item worn and soft from being held so often. Danny set those on the table as well. “I wasn’t snooping, I was trying to find out your shoe size so that I could buy you some as a gift, but it doesn’t matter. I didn’t need to see any of this, any of it—” Danny swept his hand around the table— “To know that you are in love with the Doctor. I know it every time I look at you, especially when his name comes up or you’re around him and you light up like a neon sign. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“Danny, listen: the Doctor and I, we’re just friends,” Clara attempted, but he smiled humorlessly.

“That’s a lie. You’re not offending me, you’re not insulting me, and I know that was never what you wanted to do. You wanted this relationship with me to work, and I appreciate that. I’m grateful that I ever got the chance to be with you, and I’ll look back on our time fondly. Hell, *we* can be friends, Clara! But you could never be just friends with the Doctor, and it’s an insult to yourself and to what you and he obviously feel for each other to keep pretending otherwise. Do us all a favor, and stop lying.” Danny shook his head, putting his bag over his shoulder and heading for the door. “Call me if you need me.”

Clara ran to him and just let go of every pretense. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I’m so sorry. I’ve let you down, I’ve messed this up.” She shook her head as tears filled her wide eyes. “Danny, If anything’s happened to him, I don’t know what I’ll—”

“I know,” Danny said empathetically, giving her a hug. “I know, Clara.”

Once Danny had left, Clara was released again back into her own swirling and searching thought pattern, more baffled than ever. She had had literally the perfect boyfriend, and she couldn’t make it work because she wanted someone else, a man she could never be with. She’d really outdone herself this time.

“Oops,” Clara mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut and letting her head fall to her folded arms. Talk about the understatement of the year. But then again, “perfect” was entirely subjective. Why was she trying so hard to fit her life into some cookie cutter image instead of admitting who and what actually felt perfectly right *to her*?

Her elbow bumped the lid off the shoebox and her eyes fell on a few photos from her journeys with the Doctor. Her heart felt as it it would cave in on itself, crumble into dust with the force of her adoring, bewildered, lonely emotions. She had plenty of the Doctor in his Eleventh form, mugging it up happily, and Clara giggled at the sight of his exuberant ridiculousness. Then there were selfies and sneakily snapped pics from more recent trips, with the Doctor dipping his now silver-haired head away as soon as he could, any captures of his face bearing an annoyed expression.

Except for one selfie, which she touched her fingers to fondly. He’d given up after her multiple insistences and grinned up at the camera, making it an instantly cherished shot. She also had one picture which she’d snapped of him looking pensive, his tall, dignified figure standing by the TARDIS, his elegant fingers lightly touching the door as he pondered his next move. 

He was so attractive in this new incarnation, and he had no idea, Clara realized again, biting her lip as she looked at the side-by-side images. So fucking adorable and cute and sexy and, yes, enigmatic, though every word and look from him felt undeniably intimate. It hurt her soul to look at him and she couldn’t stop.

Tears streamed down her face, brought on by fears over the Doctor’s absence and the sudden break-up with Danny as much as the fact that it had been a mistake to get involved with him in the first place when she knew where her heart truly resided, and that it was never going to change. You couldn’t force your heart to just…change. 

“Ugh,” Clara groaned, patting her face with a tissue and then trying to shake off her momentary lapse into a sad sack mood. Alright, she’d made some bad choices and she’d sacrificed honesty to fear, too worried that if she was vulnerable, everything would go up in flames one way or another. But she could learn from these realizations, she could grow. She would.

*Wait,* she thought all at once, snatching up a photo she’d taken of the TARDIS parked outside on her own street. Clara had been in a sentimental frame of mind, just loving the way it looked, as if it belonged there, near her. But now there was something in the picture that hadn’t been there before. She noticed white, scrawled writing on the top of the left side of the door. Grabbing a magnifying glass, Clara examined the photo and wrote down the message she saw: library decimal numbers, indicating where a particular book could be found. Hope ignited within her and she grabbed her keys, practically flying out the door.

The librarians cast Clara questioning glances as she scurried by, paper in hand, making a beeline for the science fiction section, where she pulled out a thick H.G. Wells volume. *Cute,* she thought and smiled at the Doctor’s obvious, coy choice of authors. Clara sank to the floor, ready to look at every page seeking the next clue, but instead she found that the inside of the book was hollow, and there was an item inside that resembled an armband or watch. She opened it hurriedly, discovering a small piece of paper tucked inside. In the Doctor’s handwriting, it read “Clara, call Jack. I’ll need both of your help, and he can get you to me.”

“Call Jack,” Clara repeated thoughtfully, staring at the inner workings of the object she held. It was already set up to dial a particular frequency, so she just hit the equivalent of the “send” button on the part of the device that was a communicator.

Instantly, she was no longer alone, but accompanied by a man wearing a long, grey coat and looking completely unfazed by his abrupt arrival. “Hey,” he greeted her. “Captain Jack Harkness. And just who might you be?” Seeing the anxious look on Clara’s face as she rushed to her feet, Jack’s expression conveyed concern mixed with the joviality which seemed to be his natural starting point in the interaction.

“Clara Oswald,” she replied, shaking his hand. She passed him the note and showed him the device the Doctor had left for her to find. “Can you take me to him?”

“You’re the Doctor’s…companion?” Jack said uncertainly, perhaps suspecting that the situation was more complicated than a typical friendship based on the intensity of her mood. Clara nodded.

“Can we go now?”

“You’re not even going to ask me who I am or how I know the Doctor, or what the hell this is—” Jack held up the device, —“or where we’re going, or why?”

“No,” Clara answered briskly. “That’s a vortex manipulator. And the ‘why’ is all I need to know about this trip. We’re going to save the Doctor. So let’s go.”

“I’m impressed with you, Clara Oswald,” Jack said. He pointed to himself and added, “Rogue or freelance Time Agent, depending on how you like to look at it. Longtime friend of the Doctor. Owe him a favor or five. Put this on.” He handed her back the second vortex manipulator and Clara strapped it to her wrist.

Jack punched some buttons on each of their wristbands and then said, “We’re about to travel through time and space, and there’s nothing to hold onto, so just take a deep—”

Clara immediately pressed the button she’d noticed his finger hovering over, and he had to finish the sentence once they had reappeared aboard an alien spaceship. 

“Breath,” Jack added wryly. Clara stumbled slightly, rediscovering her land legs, then began looking around.

“Oh, this is so typical,” Jack sighed, “A Dalek vessel. Joy of joys.”

“How did you know this was where he would be?” Clara asked out of passing curiosity as she went up the computer screens that covered one wall and started trying to figure out what they said.

“I located the TARDIS, which is what he intended for me to do,” Jack clarified, coming to stand by her side. “Now that we’re here, I can pinpoint the exact location of someone with two heartbeats…” He clicked his vortex manipulator, then nodded, pointing at the schematics on the screen in front of them. “He’s here. Oddly, not in the brig, but in a med-lab.”

“Why does that sound even worse?” Clara asked worriedly, leading the way as they slinked down corridors, finding their way to the dimly lit med lab. They crept through the shadows, careful to check that no Daleks lay in wait, until she caught sight of the Doctor, unconscious and strapped down to a cot. Multiple I.V.’s were hooked into the Doctor’s skin, pumping who knew what into his body. Clara ran to him and touched his shoulder. “Doctor?”

But there was no use. Whatever the Daleks had used to drug the Doctor had rendered him completely unresponsive. “We need to get these needles out of him, but without knowing what that will do to him…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to fight off her overwhelming sense of dread.

“These are standard fluids to keep him hydrated,” Jack noted, examining the I.V. cords, “But what is *this*?” He held up one line that was flowing with neon orange liquid. 

Just then, the lights snapped on in the room and five Daleks came in, causing Jack to reach for his weapon as Clara stepped defensively in front of the Doctor.

“Intruders identified!” The Dalek in front, who was clearly in charge, declared in a shrill, grating voice that made Clara’s skin crawl as usual. “Clara Oswald and Captain Jack Harkness, you are known enemies of the Daleks! You will be exterminated at once! Step away from the Doctor!”

“I don’t think so!” Clara shouted angrily. Jack frowned as the Daleks predictably leveled their weapons at them, lowering his own gun as he admitted defeat. 

“What have you done to him?” Clara demanded, relying on the Daleks' love of monologuing to get her the information she so desperately needed. She glanced back at the Doctor and saw that his face looked far from peaceful within the deep sleep which had forced upon him. Looking at his pained and disturbed expression agonized her. “Whatever it is, you’re going to undo it, immediately.” Her voice quivered with pure rage, and even the Daleks paused, rolling backwards slightly, as if out of instinct at perceiving her demeanor.

“We shall not undo a plan so masterful, so perfectly crafted!” the head Dalek shrieked self-importantly.

“It sounds like quite a plan,” Jack said smoothly, obviously trying to get the enemy to keep talking. 

“Correct! The formula we have devised will do much more than simply incapacitate the Doctor. It will render him, upon waking, entirely subject to our will. He shall follow our every command to the last detail! Imagine the power we will wield with the Doctor under our control. Finally, we have discovered the ultimate solution to the problem which has plagued the Daleks for countless years: the Doctor shall be more than defeated; he shall be ours!”

Jack had been doing something behind his back, tinkering with his vortex manipulator. “Thanks for the info,” he quipped, then pressed one more button. The Daleks all fell silent and went completely still. He nodded to Clara. “I hit them with a signal that knocked them out, but it will only last a few minutes. Not to mention that reinforcements are probably incoming.”

“We’ll have to get him to the TARDIS with all of this still connected, figure out how to remove it once we’re away from here,” Clara determined. She stared at the controls on the side of the floating cot and pressed one, prompting the cot to move smoothly forward. Since the IV cords were hooked right into the side of the cot, where the liquids were stored, it made for easy transport of the patient.

“The TARDIS is parked a few levels down, so we’ll have to take the lift,” Jack announced, “I should be able to alter the signal to reflect the upgrade the Daleks will likely implement once they realize what I did to their pals back there.”

“Give me your weapon,” Clara replied, taking Jack’s gun as they conveyed the Doctor to the lift. Thankfully, it was unoccupied, but they weren’t as lucky when they emerged just a stone’s throw from the TARDIS. It was surrounded by yet more Daleks.

Jack sent the upgraded signal out, but they’d anticipated his exact calculations and it bounced off of them harmlessly. Clara stepped forward with the gun and aimed it at the robot mutants.

“Clara, wait,” Jack urged, but she ignored his warning.

“I may not be able to destroy you all, but I will get at least one of you before you can retaliate,” Clara threatened the Daleks.

“A worthwhile sacrifice,” one of them retorted, “in order to keep the Doctor in captivity. You may even select me to be the one who is killed. It matters not, compared with the paramount importance of our plan!”

“Okay,” Jack said casually, grabbing the gun away from Clara and shooting the Dalek in the head. As it went dormant, he pulled another small technical gadget from his jacket pocket and handed it to Clara. “Quick, attach this to the Doctor's chest, right above his hearts,” he told her. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to use this, but it should wake him up, and I don’t see how we’ll make it out of here without his help. The Doctor’s always got one more trick up his sleeve even after I’m fresh out.”

Clara rapidly released the straps holding the Doctor down and unbuttoned his shirt. She carefully pressed the device into his chest, her own heart pounding savagely within her as she hoped this wouldn’t hurt him too much.

No sooner had the Daleks surged forward, than the Doctor sat bolt upright. “What?” He yelled at the top of his voice, clearly having been hit with quite a jolt.

“What was in that thing?” Clara asked Jack, still staring down the advancing Daleks.

“It’s the equivalent of a shot of adrenaline,” Jack explained. 

“Yes, we’re all here, this is great!” The Doctor enthused, taking in the scene to which he’d awoken. 

“And not a little terrifying,” Clara added. “Any ideas, Doctor?”

“Yes,” he replied simply, “A piece of advice for the Daleks, actually. Never think I won’t find a way to get this back.” He pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and aimed it at the Daleks, halting them as they shouted confusedly.

“Doctor, you must not be allowed to escape again!” The Daleks were temporarily paralyzed, once again weakened by the mere existence of their easily manipulated outer shells. 

Clara made to begin moving the Doctor to the TARDIS. “Wait, wait, wait!” The Doctor objected, “They said I have to stay.” Clara stared at him. He was serious.

“The serum they gave him is already taking hold, making him pliable to suggestion. But they weren’t done with the procedure yet,” Jack pondered.

“That means he may not be completely under their thrall,” Clara put in. “They also might not be the only ones who can tell him what to do. Doctor, let us help you to the TARDIS now.”

“Okay,” the Doctor replied happily and helplessly. Clara let out a sigh of relief as they fled to the blue box with him in tow.

Once they were far away from the Daleks, Clara and Jack used the TARDIS computer to determine whether he could be safely disconnected from the I.V. with the orange serum. “Yes, thank goodness,” Clara concluded, “Now lie back, Doctor.” She couldn’t help a short burst of laughter when he instantly obeyed her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do what you’re told so quickly before.”

“I would do anything you told me to do,” the Doctor replied nonchalantly, as if he was making pleasant small talk.

“Yeah, you’re on mind control serum. You’d obey anyone,” Clara reminded him, slowly removing the I.V. from his arm as Jack placed a bandage over the puncture wound it had left. Clara felt fresh fury burning behind her eyes at the sight of the angry, dark purple bruises left behind by the Daleks’ rough medical treatment.

“No, I mean under normal circumstances, I still would, Clara. I’d do anything for you. Wow, that Dalek cocktail is strong! I don’t seem to be able to lie when asked a direct question. I wonder what else I’ll say before it wears off. It feels kind of good, just *saying things out loud.*” He said this as though doing that was the most bizarre, unaccustomed idea he’d ever heard of. “Strange, but good!” The Doctor was perfectly relaxed, but Clara felt suddenly thrown off guard by his words.

“I’m worried about you, Doctor,” Clara admitted, placing her hand on his forehead. He wasn’t feverish, at least. “How do you feel?”

He smiled gently, taking her hand and holding it tenderly against his chest. Anyone could have knocked Clara over with a feather right then.

“I feel like kissing you,” the Doctor replied simply.


	3. Opening up

The Doctor tilted his head to one side. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that? I have a feeling I’m going to regret saying that.”

Clara looked as if she’d been hit by lightening, so he had to wonder if he had made her uncomfortable with such a blunt and probably inappropriate statement. 

Luckily, Jack had plenty to say to fill the silence that had taken over the scene. “Isn’t *this* an interesting situation? First of all, Doctor, new look for you, and I am loving it. The whole silver fox thing suits you to a tee. Second, well, there’s low-key in love, and then there’s the window-shattering soprano belting you two are sending back and forth every time your eyes meet. Whoa! What did I just walk into?”

“Well,” the Doctor began to explain helpfully, but Clara interrupted, her heart pounding distractingly.

“I bet he’s going to need quite a bit of rest after this ordeal,” she suggested to Jack, changing the subject.

“Yes, Doctor,” Jack confirmed, “That Dalek witches brew should wear off within twenty-four hours, maybe even sooner. Your body is going to be spending all of its energy counteracting its effects.”

“Thanks so much for everything, Jack,” Clara said warmly. 

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” he replied ominously, “The Daleks aren’t going to go quietly into the night on this one, not that they ever do.” She nodded, prepared for whatever was to come.

“Let's go, then, Doctor,” Clara said, helping the Doctor to stand and wrapping his arm around her shoulder snugly. “Let’s get you to your own bed.”

As they walked down the hall, she asked, “How did you get the message to me, the one written on the TARDIS? And how long was that vortex manipulator hidden in the library? What if just anyone interested in H.G. Wells had opened that book before I had need of it?”

“Full of questions, aren’t you, Clara?” The Doctor smiled, leaning on her. Clara loved the pressure of his weight partially relying on her. All she wanted to do was to be there for him. She hated that he’d been hurt, but was unspeakably happy that he trusted her to take care of him.

“Well,” he expounded, “I wrote the message as soon as I realized the Daleks were hounding me and they were sure to catch up eventually. They kept showing up right after I left every place that I traveled to, and they were getting quicker. The best idea seemed to be giving myself up so that I could learn what they were up to. But I knew I might need an assist if I lost the upper hand with the Daleks. So before giving the old surrender, I just popped back to the day you took the picture and wrote it when Past You and I were out of sight. As for the vortex manipulator, I’ve had that there for ages, just in case. No one is ever going to check out ‘The Shape of Things to Come,’ Clara, I mean, have you ever tried to read it?”

She shook her head in disbelief, easing him through the doorway of his room and guiding him to the bed. “Oh, you just decided to let the Daleks capture you, on purpose? In what way is that a proper plan?”

“Proper is overrated, have I taught you nothing, Clara?” His roguish grin seemed awfully flirtatious and she could feel a pink tinge spreading across her cheeks. Seeing that he noticed it too, she pretended it didn’t exist and pressed on with the conversation.

“You need to take care of yourself, Doctor. Especially when I’m not there to make sure that you do.” Clara remarked, tucking the sheets around him. He caught her arm lightly.

“Do you want to ask me anything else?” The Doctor lay there with his ocean eyes searching her face, completely open to providing any answer she might be curious to learn. Clara realized that he truly longed to know what it was she’d feel driven to ask, if given the opportunity.

“Yes. But I won’t. I want to talk to you when you’re in control of what you say, when you choose what you want to tell me of your own free will,” Clara explained, unable to help staring at his hand on her skin.

“What if I want you to ask?” His voice was vulnerable and supplicating. It seemed to knead out all the tension in her spine, reminding her anew of the unique ability he had to heal her sadness. 

*Oh, God, Doctor, if only I could. The things I would ask you! So many things!*

“This isn’t the real you; you don’t know what you want,” Clara insisted softly. “The real you has walls and boundaries and limits. Between us, I mean, among other things. It’s up to him, with every single faculty and ability to make decisions, to tear those down and let me in.”

“Do you want to come in?” the Doctor asked, surprised. 

“More than anything,” Clara confessed. She felt so much better immediately — Oh, this telling the truth really did feel amazingly good. She could see what the Doctor meant.

“Then ask me anything you want, when I’m ‘me’ again,” he suggested. “With every stupid repression back where it usually lives. At least it gives me a reason to look forward to this stuff wearing off. I can’t tell you how exhausted I am every day, putting a grumpy face on and strutting about as if I’m made of steel. And instead of getting easier, it just gets harder.”

“You don’t have to put on an act around me, Doctor. I don’t think you should do it with anyone.”

“I try to keep up the act with you most of all, and so naturally, I fail at it the most with you.”

“Well, that’s a happy failure,” Clara said reflectively. She realized that she might not be at all willing to disconnect from his touch, and thought she might have discovered a limitation of her own. “Do you mind?” She asked, drifting downward out of instinct and laying her head on the pillow beside them. He shook his head, gazing at her as they rested there, face to face, in between revelations about exactly what was happening between them, yet utterly content.

************************************************************************************  
“It’s as I feared,” Jack announced the next morning as they ate breakfast by the pool. “The Daleks’ revenge is usually pretty swift and brutal. I bopped around a few places late last night to see what was going on.” He tapped his vortex manipulator, looking frustrated by what he’d discovered. “They’ve been traveling all over space and time since our escape, selling their mind control concoction to some of the Doctor’s bitterest enemies. A few of those old foes came up with the brilliant idea of turning it into a bullet. Their intent is not to keep you as a pawn, but to kill you by basically obliterating your brain and cutting any regeneration off at the pass. I’m so sorry, Doctor.”

“Ah, it’s not that bad,” the Doctor said dismissively, trying to take that terrified look off of Clara’s face no matter how hard he had to lie. “We’ll just come up with some kind of a counter-agent, an automatic antidote, and get it into my system. That way, they can come and blast me all they want, and it won’t matter.”

“Great!” Clara put in, but he could hear the sarcastic edge in her voice and knew she wasn’t buying his quick-fix solution. “Just where are we going to get this antidote? What’s in that stuff, and what would counteract it?”

“I haven’t the slightest inkling,” the Doctor admitted. 

“I knew it,” Clara complained. “Stop saying things just to make me feel better,” she demanded tersely.

“No,” The Doctor replied, giving her a tiny smile of determination that felt downright daring to him. But he wanted her to know he wasn’t going to stop trying to help her, first and foremost, before any other concern. Clara’s lips turned up in an irrepressible returning smile that suggested she liked him drawing a hard line on this, despite her attempt to deflect his reassurances. She managed to get her face reconfigured into a frown within a moment, but it was too late. The Doctor had seen that smile and their eyes had met at just the right moment to send a shiver down his spine.

“The TARDIS computers have been unable to determine the compounds that make up that stuff,” Jack confided, “But I think I know who might be able to. It’ll take a journey somewhere very far and very weird, but if I’m right, this antidote idea might actually work.”

“Sounds like fun,” the Doctor grinned, trying to gloss over his premonition of dread regarding this whole affair. Although it was far from the first time all of his enemies had come gunning for him, that didn’t seem to make this any easier. His fear of Clara’s getting caught up in the crossfire was building and had to be controlled. He knew her far too well to believe she’d accept any dismissal from the danger.

Jack looked back and forth between the Doctor and Clara, his intelligent eyes registering an increasing comprehension of their complicated relationship. “I’ll go and contact my friends, let them know we’re on the way. Maybe, uh…maybe you two should talk.”

A silence took over once Jack had left the room. The Doctor cleared his throat. “So,” he began, and then ran out of words. Now that the serum had worn off, he almost missed the way it let him speak his mind, unfettered. *Brilliant start,* he sniped at himself. To try and make up for it, he pasted a grin on his face that probably looked vaguely maniacal, as nervous as he was.

Clara smiled delicately. “How do you feel?” She asked, looking at him with a warm solicitude that felt like a fuzzy blanket being wrapped around his soul. He just wanted to stay wrapped up there.

“Can’t believe you’re brave enough to ask me that again,” the Doctor replied sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “Scratch that, you’re brave enough for anything. Em, I feel fine, physically. And look…I know it was sort of…odd, the way I acted last night. Just…” He trailed off, amazed that he was again having to fumble for words. This never usually happened to him. The Clara Effect, he called it. “We don’t have to talk about what I said.”

The Doctor let out a sigh. Well, there was that done. He’d released her from the burdensome duty of having to disappoint him, reject his unrequited feelings. Just like the first time, it stung, but it was the only chance he had to avoid *that* conversation, which might actually destroy him.

“What if I want to talk about it?” Clara asked boldly. “Why did you say you wanted to kiss me, Doctor? Were you talking about a friendly peck on the cheek, a ‘thank you for saving my life, Clara’ kiss?”

Clara’s earnest brown eyes demanded nothing less than total honesty, and now he had no recourse. “No,” he admitted. 

She got up to stand beside his chair and placed her fingers on his chin, gently prompting him to look up at her. “What kind of a kiss, Doctor?”

“Clara,” the Doctor replied, almost scoldingly — but who was he scolding? —, as he stood and placed his hands in the air, a gesture of surrender, of helplessness, “I don’t know what to say.”

“I didn’t ask you to say a word,” she reminded him, stepping closer. 

Clara, his Clara. The Doctor felt it all like he was looking at her for the first and last time, her sweet gaze full of questions again, drawing him in, her beauty and brilliance arousing him, quickening his pulse, and making him want nothing more than to be with her forever. Impossible wishes for an impossible girl: at least it all matched up. Was she really asking him to kiss her, or had he horribly miscalculated the situation, once again?

“What about Danny?” he managed to say, regretting the words the second he’d uttered them. When you had a chance to kiss Clara Oswald, surely checking the fine print was a foolish choice. Still, he had to know.

“Danny and I broke up,” Clara revealed. 

“But why?” the Doctor asked, the worried tone in his voice making her cry foul.

“Why would that upset you?” Clara asked, bewildered.

“Because I want you to be happy!” he explained, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Clara. And you told me you loved Danny.” 

The Doctor tried not to flinch at the memory of that moment when she’d cried out to him that she loved Danny. The look on Clara’s face, that proud, “I’m moving on” look, the certainty in her voice, it all still felt like a hard slap in the face. No wonder he’d questioned his own grip on reality when she’d said it. 

He remembered his nonsensical blathering: “Why would you say that?,” he’d asked. Translation: *How can you break my hearts like this?* And of course, “Is this all part of the surprise play?” Translation: *Is there any joke or pretend confusion I can use to mask my complete misery? I’d hate for you to notice that I’m falling apart before your eyes.*

The blind, awful, unfair rage against Danny, barely suppressed and channeled through sarcastic remarks. The jealousy gripping him, a merciless chokehold. 

It had felt like falling into a black abyss that there was no climbing back out of, with Clara standing there at the top as he fell further and further away from her.

“I said I loved him because I thought that was how I should feel. But I was wrong. Danny broke up with me,” Clara elaborated, “Because he could tell how I felt about you. You should have seen me, when you were gone, when I had no idea where you were or if you were even safe. Then you would have known it, too. Danny did me a favor, honestly. I don’t know when I would have taken my head out of the sand, and I’m sorry for that.”

“How you felt about…*me*?” The Doctor repeated incredulously.

“I’m tired of denying it, Doctor, exhausted, actually. It took me a while to figure out and longer to face it, but when you changed, it didn’t change my feelings for you, not the way I thought it might. I feel even more for you now. It’s grown so much deeper. Lying about it just isn’t right, and it isn’t healthy.” Clara closed the distance between herself and the Doctor as the complete shock caused by her words settled over them. She rested her hand against his cheek and he leaned into her touch instinctively, his fingers fluttering over hers, afraid to believe in her words, but desperate to hear them. 

“I love you, Doctor. It’s always been you. It always will be. And if you don’t feel the same, I’d rather have said all that out loud anyway. I will deal with whatever your answer is and I’ll be better off than I would have been suffering in silence. So tell me now…just exactly what kind of a kiss did you mean?”

Clara let out her breath, trembling with nerves. “Brave enough for anything, you said?” She picked up a mimosa from the table — because when you breakfasted with Captain Jack Harkness, there were always mimosas—and took a well-deserved sip. “Cheers to that.”

The Doctor was speechless, so it did seem like the perfect moment for another form of communication, something more direct and honest and real. He summoned up every bit of courage he had and leaned down, drawing Clara’s petite body into his arms and pressing his lips to hers, very softly.

The crackle of electricity between them surged hotter than ever as he drew back slightly and Clara murmured against his mouth, “Doctor.” An encouragement, an invitation, a plea. There was no mistaking her now, she was turned on. By him, for him. And there was no way he could have helped kissing her again, despite every variation of trouble this might land them in, changing everything like this. So he kissed her warm, eager lips, remaining careful and tentative. 

******************************************************************************************

“Clara,” the Doctor whispered, “This must be a dream. It can’t be real.”

“Yes, it’s a dream, but it is real,” Clara told him, “And I’m no figment, so you don’t have to treat me as if I’m going to break or disappear.” The passion burning in his eyes was so raw that it took her breath away. She needed him to show her now, what he wanted, how he truly felt.

“Take this off,” She suggested, fingering the collar of his dark blue jacket. He made no objection but stared at her as though this was the most scandalous thing that had ever occurred. And maybe, Clara considered, just maybe it was. It felt deeply sexy to her, just peeling off that outermost layer of clothing, something that ought to seem quite innocuous. But that must have been partially due to all the time she’d spent imagining it, thinking of undressing him. She cleared her throat again and felt the heat in her cheeks.

“You’re blushing,” The Doctor observed, fascinated. She brushed her mouth against his, but this time she left her lips parted, kissing him more deeply as he grasped the back of her head.

“Your hearts are pounding,” Clara noticed, her hand nestled against his chest.

“Yesterday, I wasn’t even a hugging person,” The Doctor replied shakily, “Or so I thought.” He was watching her as if for an indication of what to do next, still hesitant to take the initiative and make any further moves himself. Still cautious. “What are you doing?” he asked as Clara unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt. She reached for his wrists one at a time and undid his sleeves as well. 

“I want to look at you,” Clara replied, running her fingers from his neck down to his chest and examining the small wounds from where she’d planted the adrenaline device the night before. She kissed the marks, and the Doctor shivered, his fingers on the insides of her elbows, his thumbs stroking her skin. Then Clara slowly rolled up his sleeves so that she could look at the bruises on his arms. “Already healing,” she said with a smile. “Good.”

“I leave you two alone for fifteen minutes!” Jack declared with an enormous grin, reentering the room with dramatic flair. “I mean, I could *pretend* I’m sorry that I walked in on this, but why bother?”

Clara laughed shyly and the Doctor rolled his eyes, buttoning his shirt hurriedly. “I assume you had a reason other than voyeurism for rushing back in here?” The Doctor asked as Clara handed him back his jacket. He grinned at her, dropping the flimsy pretense of annoyance. Nothing could break him out of this good mood, possibly the best mood he’d ever been in, the Doctor realized as he slung his jacket over one shoulder.

“I do indeed,” Jack announced, “I’ve plotted our course, if you’d be so kind as to head to the control room and get us there, Doctor, we’ll be off. Where we’re headed is very far from where we began, and very bizarre, just as I promised. And you may as well keep undressing, Doctor.” He winked. “We’ve got to change into some very specific attire to fit in around there.”


	4. No matter what

“I feel a bit silly,” Clara told Jack, looking at herself in the mirror of the wardrobe room. She’d disappeared behind a screen and managed to squeeze herself into the outfit Jack had suggested as appropriate for the planet Xenos, a crop top, miniskirt and leggings all in a shiny black fabric that clung to her skin like glue. She sat down to pull on the matching boots and raised her eyebrows at the make-up Jack held out in his hands. Similarly attired in a black shirt and trousers, Jack made a much more convincing future-goth-rave attendee than she did, as she'd told him. It helped that he wore the apparel with easy confidence, as if to say, ‘what else would I be wearing?’ 

“Oh, these are cool, though,” Clara gushed as she strode forward in the boots, which had quite a heel on them but were so easy to walk in that it seemed to defy logic. Kudos to whatever alien technology had been able to craft these —back on Earth, “comfortable heels” sounded like a misnomer.

Leaning closer to the mirror, she swiped on the bright green eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and maroon matte lipstick. “Looks like I’m all ready for the Blade Runner revival,” she concluded, and Jack laughed.

“When in Xenos,” he shrugged. “Just remember, don’t trust a soul down there, not until we get to my friends’ lab. This place is like a rave, sure, if it was being held in a haunted house full of criminals. Watch your back and follow my lead.”

“Ah, good old Xenos, the most reliably unsavory planet in the universe,” the Doctor added, walking in wearing a black t-shirt and trousers with a matching leather jacket to top it off. “Jack, don’t even start with me,” he warned, referring to his outfit. “I am not going *full Xenos*. This is as Xenos-y as I get.”

“Doctor, all I was going to say, honestly, is that I have missed that jacket! You had that on the first time I met you!” Jack looked genuinely moved by a nostalgia that escaped Clara. 

The Doctor examined the jacket as if reappraising it for the first time in a while. “It’s alright, isn’t it?” He grinned.

Clara looked the Doctor up and down and raised her eyebrows, impressed.

“What?” He asked.

“You look *awesome,*” Clara said definitively, and he smiled shyly.

“Just trying to fit in.” The Doctor looked at Clara’s outfit, then immediately looked away as if it was a bit more than he had been prepared to handle.

Clara laughed at his cute behavior, letting off some nervous energy, distracted by wondering what he thought about when he saw her in this get-up. “Just trying to fit in, Doctor.”

“As if you’d ever just blend into a crowd, Clara Oswald.” The Doctor’s smile made her stomach somersault and she almost forgot about Jack’s presence until he spoke up again.

“Shall we?” Jack’s question bore the unmistakable excitement of adventure, the particular sort of skip back in his step making Clara suspect that he’d been feeling rather glummer than usual before being pulled into the Doctor’s orbit once more. There had been a shadow over Jack’s expression at first, despite his outward wit and merriment. She wondered what had made this charismatic, upbeat, bright man slip into melancholy, and was glad he seemed to be perking up again.

When they stepped out of the TARDIS, Clara was astounded by the strange setting. There was nothing but pitch-blackness everywhere she looked, except for a substance floating through the air that resembled stage dust, and random bursts of multicolored neon lights. Those flickers of brightness were emanating from the entrances of clubs and stalls where vendors sold food, drink, and glow sticks. The shining, plastic sticks ran along the lines of the stalls and doors, so that you could probably just about figure out how to get where you were going…maybe. She looked up into the dark night sky and back down at the utterly indistinguishable terrain, unable to determine what sort of ground she was standing on until she brushed her fingertips against it and discovered it was rough and hard, like concrete. But then a few steps to the left revealed that there were areas of soft grass as well, overrun by people screaming, running, and even rolling around, from what she could make out through squinting eyes.

“Glow sticks,” Clara stated critically, “You can take the Earth out of the rave, but you can’t take the cheese away.”

“Those aren’t just glow sticks,” Jack warned, “Don’t touch them. They’re spiked with narcotics that flood your system once you snap them on.” 

“That’s interesting!” Clara observed loudly, in order to be heard above the racket of the music and shouting. She glanced around in stunned wonder at the hordes of partiers wearing glow stick necklaces, bracelets and crowns. They were dancing in droves to the beats of insanely loud music that sounded like techno-meets-aggro-rock. Continuing to scan her surroundings, Clara also caught sight of smaller groups of people wearing fewer glow stick accessories, apparently conducting business deals as they muttered and exchanged items in the shadows.

“Guys, just follow me and don’t respond to anyone who approaches you,” Jack advised in the sensible tone Clara used when taking her students on field trips. A short, purple-skinned man with a yellow mohawk approached, limping, wielding glow sticks and leering at the newcomers. Several more venders with various wares began to gather behind him, but Jack waved his hand at them dismissively. “Scatter.” They scampered off, some shouting and making rude gestures and others merely shrugging.

“Should I be worried about the smell of burned meat in the air?” Clara wondered aloud.

“Yes,” the Doctor replied immediately as Jack said smoothly, “No.”

“How can anyone see each other in all this fog and blackness?” Clara asked, baffled. The Doctor took her hand protectively and she smiled. “I’m alright,” she assured him.

“This place even disorients me,” the Doctor admitted. “I’d like to keep you close, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” she replied instantly, feeling her cheeks growing warm.

“I thought you knew how I felt about you, Clara,” he said huskily as they walked along, trailing Jack. “I just assumed you didn’t feel the same. When you told me you didn’t know me anymore, I understood that and respected it.” The Doctor waved a hand up and down in front of himself. “After I changed, I was not the me you knew, not the me you signed up for.”

“Hey,” Clara said, stepping in his path and looking him in the eye. They had walked far enough beyond the closest raging party that it was a bit easier to hear one another. “It doesn’t work like that, first of all. Secondly, you’re still you and you’re gorgeous, just a different version of the same gorgeous soul. My Doctor.” Her eyes shone with affection. “Third. How could you possibly have thought I *knew*? You told me all that ‘I’m not your boyfriend, Clara’ stuff…”

“I didn’t want you to have to say it,” he rushed to explain. “But really, Clara, how could you doubt the truth? Do you think I go around putting my foot in my mouth insult-complimenting just anyone’s outfits?”

Clara giggled. “I *did* think that was weird. Do you like *this* outfit, by the way?”

“Cut it out,” he said, his mouth twisting into a mischievous smile.

“Do you want me to do a little twirl?” She asked, propping her hands on her hips.

“I want you to—” the Doctor began promisingly, but Jack turned around and interrupted them.

“Wow, contact high!” Jack joked, referring not to the narcotic glow sticks, but the equally potent chemistry between the Doctor and Clara, which seemed to bring him nearly constant entertainment. “We’re here, guys. The lift should be…just over there.”

The neon street lamps shone a candy-colored light on a platform that Jack led them to. As they stood on the platform and prepared to descend, the Doctor added to Clara, “Oh, and the cake! Come on, Clara, the cake! Do you know, I had to go back to a planet where I’m their number one most wanted fugitive just to get you that? Could I have been any more obvious?”

“You told me they loved you on that planet!” Clara exclaimed, “You said you fixed their outer rings!”

“Right, well, they didn’t want me to do that; they had a religious superstition about it that made them really quite irritated with me for saving all of their lives and restoring their planet’s safety. You know, like all-guns-blazing irritated. A bit of an overreaction, if you ask me.”

“Doctor!” Clara said, aghast.

“You were having that cake,” he told her with a satisfied smile.

The platform descended, clicking into place within a glass casing before continuing its journey. Clara squinted into the blackness, only the light of the sonic screwdriver illuminating all three of their faces as they finally landed in their underground destination. They had arrived in a large scientific lab with dozens of glass-paned rooms featuring high-tech equipment and workers hurrying about, conducting all manner of tests and tasks. The blazing, antiseptic-white lighting of the place made Clara’s eyes burn after all the darkness that had preceded it.

“Take a second to let your eyes adjust,” the Doctor advised quietly, supporting Clara as she leaned on him gratefully.

When they made their way out of the lift, they were confronted by armed guards blocking the door into the facility. The Doctor flashed his psychic paper and they were admitted. Jack led the way to one of the rooms where two scientists were hard at work. One, a statuesque woman with dark teal skin and beautiful lavender hair swept into a neat bun, was holding up an erlenmeyer flask and staring at its contents as her companion, a wiry, human-looking man with curly golden hair and gleaming green eyes, sat beside her, tapping on a wafer-thin tablet.

“Mallie! Thackery!” Jack greeted them warmly, sweeping into the room and enveloping his two surprised old acquaintances in a hug. “So good to see you both! It’s been far too long, my friends.” 

Mallie gave Jack a shove and glared at him. “Friends?”

Thackery crossed his arms and shook his head. “I hardly think so, Jack. What do you think you’re doing, just barging in here and interrupting us. After the way you left things! And you haven’t even bothered to get in touch with us for two years!”

“I wasn’t counting,” Mallie said crisply. “I had better things to do. Now why don’t you get out of here, before I have you taken away by force?”

“I thought you said these people would be glad to help us. Any *friend* of yours?” Clara asked, raising her eyebrows. The Doctor chortled.

“Oh, these two are showing all the key indications that they’re friends of Jack’s,” he explained.

“You are a manipulative con artist, and we want nothing to do with you, ever again,” Thackery snapped, putting an arm around Mallie. “We’re happy now, no thanks to you. We don’t need any of the trouble you always bring with you wherever you go.”

“Oh, you mean you two are together now?” Jack laughed uproariously. “That’s fantastic!”

“Shut up and get out,” Mallie said, narrowing her eyes. Then she looked just beyond Jack and noticed the Doctor and Clara for the first time. The Doctor saw his opening and jumped in.

“Hello there, I’m the Doctor, and this is Clara. We’ve come across a rather tricky problem, and Jack here says you two have just the ingenious expertise that might be able to crack it. Care to have a go? You’d be helping us out immensely, but if that’s not a good incentive, given that you don’t even know us and we’re palling around with this one—” he pointed to Jack, who shrugged, not offended in the least —“It’s quite the conundrum. I have a TARDIS, and not even its computer could figure out what this is.” He whipped the bottle of orange liquid from his pocket and dangled it beguilingly.

“What is that?” Thackery wondered, perching a pair of glasses on the end of his nose and gazing down on the mysterious concoction.

“Whatever it is, it can turn a very self-important and disciplined Time Lord into a bowl of mind-controlled jelly,” the Doctor explained. “I’m living proof. It can also be used to create bullets that are able to prevent regeneration for my kind.”

“How diabolical,” Mallie breathed, fascinated, taking the bottle from the Doctor’s hands and smiling. “I’d be delighted to work on this and figure out what it is, maybe see if we can come up with an antidote.”

“Why?” Jack asked, bewildered. 

“Because he asked nicely, and this is like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” Mallie retorted, rolling her eyes. “And if you’d bothered to find out anything about me besides my bra size, you would know me well enough to anticipate that I am both kind and insatiably curious.”

“And if you’d taken the trouble to find out anything about *me*,” Thackery added cooly, “Aside from my apparent inability to figure out when I’m being played for a fool, you’d realize that I will also be happy to help. Of course a mind-controlling, potentially lethal substance like this shouldn’t be floating around with nothing devised to counteract it.” 

“Wait a minute,” Clara put in as an aside to Jack, “You slept with both of them, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, and it probably wasn’t the best idea. They were pretty angry when they realized I was dating both of them. But I mean, look at them! Who could choose between these two? Who could resist either one of them?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that,” Clara replied.

“Doctor, we’ll run some tests to figure out what this poison is made of,” Mallie announced. “In the meantime, you and Clara can make yourselves comfortable. Get something to eat, bathe, have a rest. We have every amenity. Jack, just make yourself scarce, will you?”

Jack put his hands up in an absurd gesture of innocence. “I’ll be the scarcest,” he promised. 

Thackery showed the guests to their rooms and then headed back to the lab. “What is this place, anyway?" Clara wondered aloud to the Doctor, having lingered in his room. "Why is there a big, impressive lab buried under the surface of a gritty, criminal-ridden party planet?” Clara took a beat to consider her own question and then said, “Ah, that’s the point, isn’t it? What better place to hide a secret facility?”

“Exactly,” the Doctor clarified, “The scientists here work for hire, but they only focus on the most elite and cutting edge developments. Given the secrecy that’s vital to so much of their work, the belly of the beast is a perfect fit. None of those drugged-out spring breakers, bounty hunters, and scalpers are looking for anything they’d find here.”

“Right. So, um…” Clara’s voice trailed off shyly. “Here we are. Alone for a bit.” 

“So it would seem,” the Doctor replied, nervous, “And I don’t have the first idea what to do about it.”

Clara approached him slowly. “What do you *want* to do about it?”

“Does that matter? I should let you go, I should tell you that after this trip, you should stay far away from me, go back to your nice, safe life where you won’t be bogged down in a life of danger, in a relationship with an immortal Time Lord terrified of the day he loses you. Too selfish to want to let you go.” The Doctor shook his head in self-reproach, but Clara placed a finger on his lips, halting his words. 

“Doctor, what you want *matters.* And I don’t need you to protect me from my own happiness by making all kinds of predictions about what might happen, or dismissing the whole idea of being together out of hand just because eventually, we’ll have to deal with some hard truths. I just need *you*. I can handle anything that’s coming our way, but…” Clara took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Like I said, I can’t lie about that anymore.”

“Run,” the Doctor said suddenly, his eyes widening as Clara looked at him in slight irritation.

“No, I just said that I’m not going anywhere. I mean, unless you want me to. Is that what you’re—” As Clara struggled to figure out his meaning, the Doctor grabbed her arm, urging her forward, shaking his head hurriedly. Oddly, he whipped out his sonic sunglasses and put them on.

“Oh, of course not! I actually mean, run, now! There’s someone behind you. Don’t turn around and don’t look at it.” He took her hand and she quickly followed him out of the room and back down the hall towards the lab rooms, but she couldn’t help one tiny peek over her shoulder. Then she froze in her tracks. Clara's nearly shrieked at the sight of an alien with a long, crumpled face, its eyes sunken into its cheeks and surrounded by deep, dark circles. Where its mouth should be, there was just…nothing. It began to speak to Clara, though how this could be or why she understood it so clearly when it didn’t even have a mouth was impossible to guess. She also couldn’t fathom why the creature seemed to be eerily familiar to her.

*You must leave him…we cannot allow you to remain with the Doctor…the prophecy must be prevented from coming to pass…leave the Doctor, or we will use the poison created by the Daleks. If we must destroy the Doctor to prevent the Hybrid, we shall do so.*

Clara shuddered as the words seemed to crash, unwelcome, into her mind, which recoiled from the repugnant suggestions the voice carried. “Absolutely not!” Clara exclaimed, stopped in her tracks. “You don’t tell us what to do and hang it all on some prophecy we’ve never even heard of. Who are you? How dare you threaten us? I’m not letting you anywhere near the Doctor, so you’d better back off.”

“I told you not to turn around,” the Doctor sighed, and Clara turned back to face him, slightly apologetic.

“I tried not to, but…wait, what are you talking about?” Clara inquired, losing her train of thought entirely. The Doctor looked past her, as if listening to someone very intently.

“Just come with me, Clara, and I’ll tell you all about it. And as for you lot,” he shouted over her shoulder as she stared at him like he’d gone insane, “I thought we’d got over this whole phase of our relationship, you hunting me like a dog because of my actions in the future. Always assuming the worst of me! I mean, I don’t even know if it’s you making the decisions on your own, or the boss of whatever iteration of your church sent you. But I don’t know anything about a Hybrid or any new prophecy, and frankly, I don’t want to know. I’m giving you one chance, exactly one, to get off this planet and leave us alone.” 

The invisible conversationalist must have said something else, because the Doctor shook his head vigorously, adding, “No, just shut it,” which would have been rather funny to Clara had she remembered that the alien he was addressing didn’t actually have a mouth.

“What’s going on?” Clara demanded as he led her into an empty lab room. “Who were you just talking to?”

“An old frenemy,” the Doctor explained, pocketing his sunglasses; “A member of the alien race known as the Silents.”

“You mean the ones that people forget about if they aren’t looking directly at them?” Clara inquired. “Ohh,” she added, the light of realization gleaming in her eyes. “Did he leave?”

“For now,” he replied, looking through the drawers and containers of the lab. If what they said to you was anywhere near as charming as what they told me, they'll certainly come back with reinforcements since we didn’t agree to their terms right away,” the Doctor concluded. “The question is, what in the hell is the Hybrid, why is there a prophecy about you and me, who started it, and why are the Silents willing to kill me to prevent it?”

“That’s four questions,” Clara remarked drily, crossing her arms and sitting down on a cot. “What are you doing there?”

He looked up from the pieces of black plastic he was examining and scanning with his sonic screwdriver. “This particular lab room is a repository of recycled and spare materials. In the past, people have used eye patches to retain their memories of interactions with the Silents. I think we can do better than that. How would you like your own pair of sonic sunglasses?” He winked at her as if this was all lovely and exciting, and not a total disaster. Clara managed a half-smile, but it was tainted.

“I can’t believe this,” She sighed, her spirits feeling all of a sudden quite drained. “It’s bad enough the Daleks are selling that poison to anyone who wants to buy it, but now we’ve got Silents bent on tearing you and me apart?” She folded her arms, hugging herself and frowning sadly. 

“Clara Oswald, I believe I’ve been remiss in telling you something I really should have mentioned earlier,” The Doctor said, striding forward and then leaning down to kiss her, much more confidently than before, leading Clara to grab him by the collar of his jacket and pull him closer. His lips were sure, confident, lacking the nervous uncertainty of their earlier kisses. 

“What’s that?” She asked softly, staring into his eyes as he sat down beside her, a deliberate and fearless expression having taken over his face.

The Doctor said firmly, “I love you.” He shook his head as if the words were hopelessly reductive. “But I don’t just love you, that’s…” He trailed off, and Clara, with her brain singing odes to dizzy elation and her heart pounding relentlessly, didn’t quite know how to react.

“Doctor, you don’t have to,” she began, haltingly. Somehow she wanted to indicate that she understood how long he’d fought to hide these feelings, respected it now that she knew. That Clara did not want to push him to reveal himself, render himself as vulnerable as she had, out of a sense of obligation, just because she’d done the same and everything happened to be falling to pieces around them like it always seemed to do.

“No,” he insisted, “I want to tell you, Clara. I adore you. I love you to a billion minuscule smithereens. You blow me away. And nobody is ever going to tear us apart again.”


	5. Within the walls

“You’re kidding me,” Jack said in disbelief, sighing as he sank into a chair in Mallie and Thackery’s lab. The Doctor and Clara had updated him with the latest development, while in the background, the two scientists were still hard at work.

Jack pressed his hands to his forehead, momentarily closing his tired blue eyes which were filled with concern for his friend. Then he popped his head back up again, as if trying to shake himself out of a lapse into hopelessness. “I’ve heard rumors about these creatures who leave your memory when you turn away from them, but this is beyond anything I’ve been told. I just can’t believe they would do business with the Daleks, even to get that poison. The only reason they want to take you out of play is because their church believes your existence will lead to bloodshed. And who’s caused more bloodshed than the Daleks?”

“The Silents are unpredictable; the Daleks have been able to use them as pawns in the past. Depending on where they come from and why, they might have their own agency or be acting on the whims of others. At any rate, we probably also have to assume that the Daleks are not the only ones selling the poison by now,” the Doctor theorized, fingers pressed to his mouth. Clara stood behind him, bristling with anger at his enemies, clasping his shoulder anxiously.

“This has to stop,” She blurted, perhaps pointlessly, it seemed to her, but desperation forced the word from her lips.

“Antidote’s coming right along!” Mallie chirped affably, her infectious enthusiasm lightening the bleak mood which had taken temporary hold of the three visitors. “The chief ingredient in the Daleks’ formula is a tiny bit of Time Lord DNA which is replicated every time a new dose is created. They’re using your own biology against you, Doctor, perverting it with other elements to make the ultimate poison. They also put some kind of cloaking element into the formula to make it impossible to analyze by computer. That was the first thing we had to work through to conduct our investigation.”

“So, Doctor, we’ll need a DNA sample from you in order to finish the antidote, We’ll need to create a reversal of the same idea that went into their formula in order to render you immune,” Thackery explained. The Doctor nodded, but looked uncomfortable. “Unless we treat Time Lord DNA with the other elements of the antidote formula, we won’t be able to get the results we’re after,” the blonde scientist added apologetically.

“I’m not sure how I feel about Time Lord DNA being bought, sold, and processed all over the place,” the Doctor worried. “Actually, I do. It’s sort of a panic-dread casserole with a savory foreboding sauce on top.”

“All we can do is work with the options we have,” Jack reminded him. “That’s all we’ve ever done, Doctor.” 

“Yeah, it’s what we do,” the Doctor said, half-dejectedly. Clara could tell he was becoming overwhelmed by the chaos swirling around them ever since the Daleks had devised their latest plan against him. The situation seemed to be growing larger and more unmanageable by the moment. 

“We’re lucky,” She told him, sitting beside him and taking his hands. “We’ve got each other, we found our way here, we’re finding our way to a cure for this whole problem, with help from some very special people. I may be infuriated and really, really stressed at the moment, but that’s what I use to keep it in perspective. It can’t all fall apart if we don’t let it.”

“Thank you, Clara,” the Doctor murmured, kissing her fingers. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Mallie chimed in, “While we’re finishing up the antidote, why don’t you two go back up to the surface and take a little break, get some air that isn’t artificial? I know it’s a maelstrom of crime and other shenanigans out there, but Club Emanation is always nice. For a Xenos club, you know.”

“Ah yes,” Jack said, fond nostalgia filling his eyes, “Club Emanation. Do either of you remember the night I took—” 

Thackery and Mallie shot him resentful looks. “No!” They shouted in unison. 

“Will you be safer down here in the science bunker?” Clara asked, but the Doctor shook his head.

“Nah,” he replied, “If the Silents can hunt me down here, anyone can. Let’s go be tourists, shall we?” The old mischief came back into his smile, igniting the same instinct in Clara. 

“Lets!” Clara agreed, her spirits beginning to lift.

When they returned to the surface, the Doctor handed Clara her new sonic sunglasses, and she slid them on, letting out a curious “oohhh!” as she experienced their effect on how one viewed the environment of Xenos. Instead of having to squint around in the dark and dust and crowds to see anything, Clara found that she could see everything and everyone with perfect clarity, including one aspect of the city she hadn’t previously observed. “We’re inside a dome!” She noted in surprise, staring up at the enormous overhead vault splitting the eternal night of this place with the reality that lay above, where it was actually bright day half of the time.

“They like their darkness around here,” the Doctor explained, looking up through his own sunglasses. “In more ways than one.” He threaded his fingers through Clara’s, igniting her excitement all over again. Who knew what this little outing would bring? It felt as if the air was thrumming with possibility. She ignored the wild antics going on around them as if they were white noise within slow motion somewhere far off in the distance. Only the Doctor’s magnetic gaze, the touch of his hand, and the promise of their love rang through her.

*********************************************************************************************  
The Doctor felt out of his element. *Shouldn’t that be my comfort zone by now?* he joked to himself. Clara Oswald had yanked him headlong from his comfort zone from the beginning, pulling him with a wink and a smile into feelings he’d never known, not in two thousand years. He’d gone hurtling forward with the terrifying and exhilarating knowledge that there was no going back and no matter how much it was going to hurt when it ended, he didn’t want to go back.

But this…this experience, taking this little break, going out to a club with Clara, this was different. Traveling with Clara was easier, slipping into “old pals” mode and traipsing around getting into trouble, finding solutions by combining their intellects in a way that felt fascinatingly seamless, volatile as their arguments could be. But it had also been harder before, in those days, trying not to look at her for too long with his desire obvious, doing his best to keep things casual and preserve both of them from the various types of pain he’d theorized could be the result of his honesty. There was the scenario in which she returned his love and the one where she didn’t, and he’d played them out in his head so many times. Now that they were actually *in* the first scenario, he had what could only be described as first date jitters.

The Doctor wondered if Clara could tell from his hot, moist palm how worked up and confused he was, but he just followed the path to Club Emanation and showed the petite female door minders his psychic paper. They nodded and gave small, smiling bows with a courtly little flourish accentuated by their bright green, matching ponytails and long pink robes.

“A bit cheerier than most of Xenos, isn’t it?” Clara said as she gave them a friendly nod and entered the club. She sucked in her breath with pleasant surprise as her eyes darted here, there and everywhere. The Doctor grinned, gently lifting away her sunglasses and tucking them into her purse, loving the experience of seeing this place anew through her eyes.

The large room was lit by dim, rose light, and above them on the ceiling was projected an exceedingly realistic pink sky, streaked with gold and blue-green in a forever sunset. On the stage ahead of them, a band played a hypnotizing, wistful dreampop ballad as couples swayed across the dancefloor. Tiny pink and gold lights twinkled everywhere around them, and the drinks held by passers-by were sweet and foamy-looking, like something you’d be served in a faerie court.

“I feel like I’m not on the same planet anymore,” Clara remarked. 

“Xenos caters to every kink,” the Doctor explained. “Even the weirdest one of all: nice.”

“Hey,” she teased, elbowing him lightly, “I’m nice.”

“That’s why I don’t know why you put up with me,” he responded, lowering his hands to touch her waist as she looked up at him expectantly. “Dance with me, Clara?” he asked, admiring the pink lights reflecting in her eyes, shining an embracing hue on the curves of her face and the lavender, floral-patterned midi dress she’d changed into. Her lips were soft, tinted in mauve, and kissing them was as much on his mind as drawing her closer, moving to the enticing beat of the song.

“Doctor, it occurs to me that we could have dressed normally all along, and everyone out there would have just assumed we were heading for Club Emanation. So why did Jack tell us to dress like…punk rock glow stick dealers when we first got here?”

“Oh, that. He probably just wanted to see us in black space leather,” the Doctor explained lightly. Clara giggled.

“This *is* nice,” he said, leaning down to say the words into her ear. He felt a shiver reverberate through her and she pressed her cheek against his chest. “Sure you don’t want to go back to bickering and repressed sexual tension?”

“Tempting,” she said with a quiet chuckle, “But let’s…unrepress, Doctor. Just for the hell of it. And don’t think I’m not going to ask you to say ‘sexual’ a few more times in that voice of yours. I’ve got a whole list of favorite words for you to say.”

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you. I’ve got sort of…a thing about your voice, Doctor. The way you say my name, among other words. It sounds like your tongue is lingering over the two syllables in a very intriguing and thought-provoking manner.” Clara closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeats, swaying to the music, letting revelations fall from her lips as easily as petals falling from a rose caressed with one’s thumb.

“Clara,” the Doctor replied, very aroused and trying to contain himself, yet egging her on out of sheer inability to help himself, “Do you have any other ‘things’ about me?” 

“Oh, yes, quite a few,” she confessed. She had to go up on her tiptoes to kiss his mouth, and he savored the adorable fact of their height difference, marveling at her tiny, gorgeous perfection as much as ever. “Do you have any about me?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, running one hand down the side of her body, tracing her arm and then her figure through the soft, thin material of her dress. “Quite a few,” he added.

Clara’s gaze slid upward until it locked with his, until she saw her own intentions exactly mirrored. “TARDIS?” She suggested quietly but very distinctly.

The Doctor nodded. “TARDIS,” he confirmed simply, and they slipped quietly out of the club. Once they followed the path back to the phone box and stepped inside, they hesitated for a moment before Clara laughed whole-heartedly. Alive, full of wonder and free from all artifice. She grabbed the Doctor’s hand and ran out of the control room, down the hallway, towards her room. 

“Clara!” he called in a delayed burst of delighted surprise. 

***************************************************************************************

“Just you get in here,” Clara demanded playfully, drawing him into her quarters. Immediately, they were both hyperaware of the bed behind them. She saw the Doctor look at her, look at the bed, and almost freeze up again.

“What are you so afraid of?” Clara asked, the smile fading from her lips, but her joy unabated. She trusted him, knew they had come too far now for him to hide his feelings from her again, which was all that she had ever been unable to bear in this relationship. She caressed his face and watched him slowly relax into her touch.

“Nothing,” the Doctor admitted, “And everything.” He reached behind Clara’s head and gently pulled out the clip that had held her hair in an artfully messy bun. It fell in silky waves around her face. Then the Doctor continued with a procedure that felt so achingly private and intimate to Clara that it caused her to bite her lip and discover a new sort of tingle that wandered shamelessly all through her body. He found the zipper of her dress and pulled it down. Just the slightest nudge to the two straps at her shoulders caused it to flow gracefully to the floor. Clara watched as his eyes took in the shape of her body and her smooth, beckoning skin, letting a few more heartbeats go by before he melted against her, kissing her lips with abandon, open and daring in the expression of his need. At the sensation of his arms around her scantily clad figure, his fingers beginning to explore the places his eyes had roamed, Clara felt a hot spike of desire take her over. She led him to the bed and laid down, reaching up for him, encouraging him to follow her and to hover above her, continuing their kissing as she pulled off his jacket. Clara rested her hands on the sides of his face as his mouth seared into her own and got her breath back just enough a moment later to ask a question.

“Doctor?” Clara asked as he kissed her neck, her collarbone. She sighed.

“Mmm?” He wondered, pausing to look up at her. Clara loved few things more than catching the Doctor slightly unaware and watching him try to figure her out. He was just as adorably puzzled now as he was sexy, and it inspired her with all kinds of ideas.

“Do you think of me?” 

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow at Clara’s seemingly rhetorical question, but then she continued the thought. “Do you think of me when you’re…” Clara moved her thigh, brushing against him and feeling the evidence of his desire, making them both shudder in the best way. It distracted her, but she managed to resume, “when you’re alone?”

The question seemed to cause the Doctor slight embarrassment. He smiled, then looked very serious. “You can tell me, if you want to. I'd like to know,” Clara pleaded tenderly. 

“Yes,” the Doctor confessed, his voice tight, his body resting between her hips as she began to unbutton his dark blue shirt.

He bent his head to kiss her shoulder, just next to her bra strap, and Clara added, “What do you think about?”

She could see that her line of questioning made him dually excited and flustered. “I think,” the Doctor admitted, sliding the straps from her shoulders, “About tasting you.”

His words caused Clara to feel slightly, deliciously, dizzy. “Where?” she asked, throwing her head back on the pillow as he eased her bra off and kissed her between her breasts, teasing what else he might do.

“Your mouth,” the Doctor clarified, claiming her lips as she pulled his shirt off. She’d just gotten that removed when he slowed her down by murmuring, “Your skin.” He wasn’t just kissing her now; he was licking and delicately biting, making his way from her neck back to her chest before cupping each breast and paying such implicit attention to them that Clara moaned loudly, almost desperate enough to lower her fingers to her own body. Anything to do something about the craving that had taken her over. “Not so fast,” the Doctor said, catching her wrist — she liked that too, despite her impatience. The control freak and the one who liked to be in control: it was not a treacherous combination, but a perfect meeting of equals. 

“Where…else?” Clara said by way of retort to his last motion, and he kissed her stomach. 

“Here,” The Doctor explained, feeling her sharp intake of breath. He pressed his mouth to each of her hips and they rose suggestively. 

Clara ran her fingers through his hair, grinding one foot into the sheets in a continued attempt to release some of the tension building up in her core. The Doctor moved his lips yet lower and she let out a noise that should have been rather embarrassing, actually, but she was far too elated to care. With a skill that left her breathless, he continued to apply himself until Clara fell apart under the force of a pleasure too sublime to resist a moment longer.

“And,” the Doctor added, lifting his head and smiling up at her, somehow, impossibly, looking shy and smug at the same time but overall just purely happy, “There.”

“Doctor,” Clara whispered fiercely, pulling him up by his shoulders, kissing his lips, knowing that she needed to feel all of him now. She wanted to say something else to indicate her thoughts, but her mouth seemed to settle on that much-loved word as the best and most delectable two syllables for the occasion. “Doctor.” It somehow communicated everything: “I love you.” “Don’t make me wait a moment longer.”

And he didn’t.

He fell against her slightly afterwards, his face pressed hotly to her shoulder, his breath ragged. Clara kissed his forehead, then rolled over so that she could snuggle against his chest, his arms circling her as he continued to breathe deeply. “It feels so good to be here,” Clara murmured contentedly, “inside your walls. After all that time waiting outside.” She looked up at him. “Please let me stay.”

“Clara, you’ve been inside my walls since the first time we met,” the Doctor informed her huskily. “I was just afraid to let you know.”

Clara considered his words carefully. They meant everything to her, encompassing the full meaning of “I love you” just as much as her breathy cries of his name a few minutes earlier. Just in a different way. She was learning that there were quite a few ways of saying it, each one just as beautiful and inspiring as the last.

“I guess I can be a little stubborn myself sometimes,” Clara admitted, and he laughed sharply, going right for her stomach with his fingers for a good quick tickle. “Hey, cut that out!” she insisted, laughing.

“You *guess*? A *little* stubborn?” The Doctor repeated incredulously. “Clara Oswald!”

“Okay, a lot stubborn. A lot of the time. But the one thing I’m most stubborn about is loving you, no matter how blind and standoffish and impossible *you* are. So there,” she concluded archly.

“So there,” the Doctor replied with a grin, sweeping a lock of hair back from her cheek.

They lay there in blissful serenity for a little while longer before Clara spoke again. Without warning, she sat bolt upright in an unexpected “Eureka!” moment.

“Clara?” he asked, perplexed by her sudden change in attitude

“Doctor, do you know what we never thought of?” She asked excitedly.

“Well, quite a lot of things, but that was only the first time we’ve ever slept together,” he answered cheekily. She swatted at him playfully.

“Not about that! About our problem with this poison created to brainwash or kill you. Remember what Mallie said, that there was something in the formula that actually cloaked it from all scanning technology? That’s why the TARDIS computer couldn’t analyze it.”

Yes,” he answered, curious to hear her next idea.

“Well,” Clara continued, pulling her knees to her chest, the sheets loosely circling her, “Who else do we know that can hide in plain sight and avoid being detected or analyzed unless very special methods are used?”

“The Silents,” the Doctor put in immediately. “Wait a minute, Clara. Are you saying that the Daleks and the Silents created that formula together?”

“Time Lord DNA. Easy enough for the Daleks to pull from their medical archives, after all the run-ins they’ve had with your people. Alright. Combine it with Silent DNA. Able to hide the very nature of the formula to make it extra hard for us to figure out what would counteract it. The culprits: the two races in the universe that perhaps most want you dead or at least subjugated, controlled: the Silents, who consider you at various times and for different reasons, a threat of armageddon. And the Daleks, your fiercest nemesis of all time. What if the two of them decided to team up on this one, once that Hybrid prophecy started to get well-known around the universe?”

“Brilliant, Clara. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if you’re right about this, and it’ll make predicting their next move a hell of a lot easier. But there’s another factor we need to consider in figuring this out. That prophecy. I’ve had them circulating about me plenty of times before, most recently because I was going to bring my planet back and cause a great bloody war — an unfortunate talent of mine. I managed to get that prophecy done away with; it only cost me my life. Yet this one is very different. ‘The Hybrid.’ Referring to the two of us as a unified force of chaos and damnation. It’s downright bizarre.”

“Yes, because it’s so…*personal*,” Clara replied thoughtfully. She rested her chin on her knees and his hand went instinctively to her back to rub her skin, a show of comfort. Even though he was in far more danger than she was. 

“Right. Why do the Daleks or the Silents or anyone else care who I travel with, who I love? In the case of the Silents, or the larger gaggle of them, the Silence, it’s usually all about the doom and gloom I’m going to cast upon some large population unless they can stop me. Sounds like that’s what they’re thinking again now, based on what their agent told us down in the bunker.”

“So why would our relationship be destined to cause so much trouble?” Clara wondered.

“Prophecies become rumors the more they get about,” the Doctor explained, deep in contemplation. He bit his finger lightly, as if annoyed all of a sudden by a new idea. “It’s a game of telephone after a while, Clara. First it’s you and me, two people destined to cause a great bloody war if we stay together. Just the thing to send the Silents off on a Doctor-hunting rampage. But it gets around a bit more, and someone changes it just a tiny bit to spice it up or for their own strange motives, whatever those might be. And it turns into ‘the Doctor and Clara Oswald will destroy the entire Dalek race.’”

“So that both adversaries hear the exact information they’d need to in order to begin chasing you down, devising a means to take you out of play,” Clara said. “Almost as if someone wanted the rumor to develop in just such a certain way at the right time. That’s *horribly* clever, and who would possibly do such a thing?”

“Well, Clara,” the Doctor replied, leaning back on his arms with a scowl, “I knew a man once who would have done that to me in a second. It’s just his way of thinking because it’s coy, manipulative, and almost impossible to fight back against. It feels like a subtle mocking until it starts screaming at you so loudly that you can’t hear yourself think, and then you definitely know it’s him.”

“Who, Doctor?” Clara inquired, flopping down to lay beside him. She stared into his hardening gaze as he spoke the next words.

“He’s dead now, so it can’t be him. Unless by some insane happenstance he managed to survive, to regenerate. His name is the Master.”


	6. Closer than this

“Can I take a moment to appreciate that your idea of post-coital conversation is earth-shatteringly profound analysis of our current adventure?” the Doctor inquired as he and Clara made their way back through the thickly populated street that led to the science bunker. 

Clara smiled proudly, swinging their joined hands back and forth. “You may,” she replied, wondering at the combination of emotions fluttering in her heart. The most perfect happiness she’d ever experienced, and underneath it, a premonition of the trouble to come that kept trying to bubble back up to the surface like toxic lava, threatening to eat away their newfound joy until only the fear remained. She decided to make it her personal mission to hold onto the happiness, keep the fear at bay. Trouble wasn’t going anywhere, and it was certainly nothing new. The variety they faced now just happened to be a bit more scarily complicated than usual. She could handle it.

“That’s weird,” Clara murmured, her thoughts shifting back to investigative mode as she glimpsed a certain face in the crowd. She adjusted her sonic sunglasses and looked again.

“What’s weird?” the Doctor asked, immediately on his guard, putting a lot of stock as always in Clara’s instincts.

“I’ve seen that woman before. On Earth, in London.” Clara locked her detective gaze on the figure of a slender female dressed all in plum, her face shaded by the wide brim of her hat, fire-engine red lips spread into a grin that peeked out at them as she turned away and continued walking in the opposite direction. The Doctor followed Clara’s eyes and they went after the stranger.

“She’s the one from the shop, Doctor. That’s why I remember her so well, I mean apart from the fact that she dresses like a mean aunt in a Charlotte Bronte novel. It was one of the most important moments of my life, and I’ll never forget it. She gave me your number.”

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed as he let Clara’s words sink in. Then he sprang forward with the alacrity of a fox and apprehended the woman in purple, seizing her by the arm with a deft, firm motion.

“Well, aren’t we forward?” the woman smirked, turning around to reveal blue-grey eyes and brunette curls, her smile wolfish. The smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I like a man who knows what he wants, but you’re clearly *with* someone.” She nodded to Clara.

The Doctor stared into the stranger’s face for a beat, his expression unreadable. “Who are you?” he demanded with quiet intensity.

“Out of your league, quite frankly.” She brought forth a shabbily chic umbrella and leaned on it theatrically. 

Clara stepped forward and said boldly, “Remember me? From the shop. On another planet, light years away from here. You gave me his number. So drop the charade and explain who you are and why you are here, because we know it has something to do with us.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you two are indefatigable,” the woman complained. “Listen, it’s all a bit labyrinthian, if I’m honest. Do you want to go and sit down somewhere before I start dropping the bombshells?”

“You regenerated,” the Doctor guessed, completing his careful and close observation of the stranger’s face, mannerisms, and attitude. “into a woman.”

“So I did, dear, and doesn’t it look smashing on me? I feel like my best self. You can call me Missy now, if you please. Can’t exactly go by ‘the Master’ anymore, can I? Anyway, I’m just a smidge dismayed that we’ve crossed paths this early in the game, but I do applaud your sharp eye, Impossible Girl.” She winked, then whipped out a stick of lip gloss and made a dramatic show of updating her make-up.

“Game?” Clara repeated angrily, “You think this is a game?”

“I simply have a more clear-eyed outlook than you, or else it’s a lot murkier and madder. So yes, I call it a game. To extend the metaphor, I’ve got quite a few balls in the air where the two of you are concerned. How I’ve missed you, Doctor, despite the fact that our last couple of encounters were ever so slightly…fraught.”

“Anyway,” Missy continued smugly, “As I was saying, I’ve got all kinds of brilliant plans for you two, one of which is called the Nethersphere and it’s fantastic — really, watch this space, you’re going to love it. I do like following you around on your adventures and watching you squirm on the hooks I’ve sent spiraling into the waters to snatch you up! Like this delicious Hybrid prophecy.”

“All your doing, of course,” the Doctor fumed.

“Of course,” Missy confirmed, playing with his jacket until he swatted her away. Clara’s glare on her was pure ice. “Don’t give me that look, Clara,” she snipped, lavishing the name with unmistakable contempt. “All I did was take the truth and slap a name on it: the Hybrid. Good enough name as any for what you two are and what disaster you will unleash upon the universe. That’s why I brought the two of you together. You’re perfect for him. I think that’s why you nauseate me so much, despite the fact that I also somewhat admire you. Nerves of steel, this Clara. A heart that loves so fiercely, once she fixes on you, you’ll never be free of her grip, *or* want to be. She’s the exact match for your own frenzied, misguidedly moralistic self, Doctor.”

“What’s the point, Missy?” the Doctor asked, suddenly looking exhausted again. 

“To bring you down to my level. Give you something you’d be willing to kill for, move planets out of your way to protect, throw caution and every law you’ve ever stood for to the winds because nothing and no one else will matter to you as she does. Now you know what it’s like to be selfish. See where it takes you, Doctor, see how it kills you to watch your own goodness evaporate the first time she’s threatened. As for this current scenario you’ve landed in, I find it an intriguing and somewhat unexpected twist. *You* are the one in direct peril. What will she—” Missy pointed her umbrella at Clara — “do to save you? What *wouldn’t* she do?” She rubbed her hands together with wicked glee. 

Just then, Jack came rushing towards them, navigating the never-ending party crowds with expert precision. “Guys, I’ve got great news,” he gushed, but then he paused, making note of Missy’s presence. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he smiled automatically, eyes twinkling, “And who are you?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” the Doctor groaned. “She’s the Master.”

Jack flinched and released Missy’s hand in the middle of his typically flirtatious greeting. “What are you doing here?” He asked coldly, all friendliness dying from his face.

“Now, now,” Missy pouted, “You’re just so limited, Captain. Why must you jump to the conclusion that I’m up to no good? Such a subjective concept, anyway.”

“Leave,” the Doctor commanded Missy, “And stay out of our way. Don’t even think about us again. This is the first and last warning you’re going to get from me.”

“If that’s what you think, you’re forgetting what has happened every other time we’ve met, Doctor,” she purred. “You never pull the trigger.”

“If you think I never would, perhaps you should review that monologue you just ‘unleashed’ upon us,” the Doctor admonished her, “And wonder if trying to play games with Clara and me was really such a splendid idea.”

They walked on and left Missy to slink back into the populace. “What the hell is she doing here?” Jack asked, astonished.

“Skulking around in the shadows,” the Doctor explained, “Stirring the pot. Trying to prove a foolish theory of hers to be true for unforgivably petty reasons. I suppose it’s a mild improvement on trying to conquer the Earth by turning every person on the planet into a clone of herself. Or himself, as the case was.”

“What were you coming to tell us?” Clara asked Jack. She pressed her lips together, trying to stave off the rage which Missy had inspired in her. The idea of being a pawn in what was essentially a cosmic practical joke was intolerable. The thought of her relationship with the Doctor being primed to bring catastrophe in one way or another made her feel sick.

She would not accept it. 

“The antidote is ready,” Jack confided, “And we need to get it into the Doctor’s system as soon as possible.”

**************************************************************************************

“This should set in quickly,” Mallie smiled as she injected the antidote into the Doctor’s arm. 

“You’ll still be in danger if someone shoots you with one of those poisonous bullets,” Thackery clarified, “but only because you’ve just been shot.” He sat back in his chair, his obvious pride and satisfaction fully earned by what he and his partner had accomplished. “This will render the poison itself completely ineffectual against you. No more mind control, and you’ll be able to regenerate if mortally injured.”

“How often will he have to take it?” Clara asked as the Doctor rolled his sleeve back down.

“That’s the thing,” Mallie said, her happy expression waning. “You’ll need to duplicate this over and over on the TARDIS, Doctor, because as long as that poison is out there, you’ll always be at risk from it. The antidote should last you several days in the large dose we’ve given you.”

“Lucky it doesn’t seem to be hitting you strangely,” Thackery remarked, scrutinizing the Doctor’s unfazed appearance. “Wish you’d been willing to take a small dose as a test run first.”

“I’m fine,” the Doctor insisted. “We don’t have time for more experiments. I truly can’t thank the two of you enough for what you’ve done for me.” He shook the scientists’ hands, solemn and immensely sincere.

“Neither can I,” Clara added, giving them each a hug.

“So,” Jack quipped, “Since the three of us will be heading off, is there any chance I’ve got a shot at redeeming myself in your eyes?” He turned a supplicating look upon his two exes and they rolled their eyes in unison. “Come on, guys! Friends? Maybe? Someday?”

“Maybe someday,” Mallie conceded. “You should continue keeping such good company, Jack. You could use a positive influence.”

“Back-handed compliments and the clear insinuation that you’ll be ghosting my texts,” Jack replied blithely. “Ah, well, I’ll take it!” He saluted them with a fond smile.

*****************************************************************

“So not to state the obvious,” Jack pondered, swiveling back and forth in a chair as he sat in the TARDIS control room, “But what next?”

The Doctor paced and Clara stood in one spot, her chin cupped in her fingers, both of them thinking at full force.

“It’s impossible to anticipate who will come after me next out of all my enemies,” the Doctor pondered. 

“Does it matter?” Clara asked. “I almost wish we could just get it over with, let them see that they don’t have the power over you that they think they do.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Jack reasoned. “A villains summit! Just tell them that you’re immune and they need to scuttle back under the rocks from which they came. Fight our way out of there like always and be on our way.”

“Could work,” the Doctor allowed, “Especially because it’s crazy.”

“Thanks,” Jack laughed. “We’ll need reinforcements, too. Since I know you’re never going to ask any of your friends to risk their lives to save you, just let me take care of that part.” The Doctor opened his mouth to object, but Jack held his hand up like a stop sign. “Don’t bother. I’m doing it.”

“We’ve got another problem,” Clara put in anxiously. “the Silents are determined to separate us. Who sent them, and what will they be willing to do in order to keep us apart, prevent us from becoming the Hybrid? What other versions of the prophecy might they have heard so far to firm up their vendetta against us? Could they have gathered any truthful intelligence on what exactly it is we’re going to get up to in the future?” Was the prophecy merely a trick of Missy’s, or something much more insidious? Or, as Clara feared, both?

“Guesswork can only take us so far, and it might drive us into unnecessary anxiety if we follow it all the way down the rabbit hole,” said the Doctor soothingly, gently removing Clara’s hands from the back of her neck and stroking her fingers. “Jack’s right. We can only make the best decisions possible based on what we know.”

“I’ll take a little jaunt around a few of my favorite watering holes,” Jack volunteered, “Gather some more intel, then start contacting allies. We can take it from there.”

“Jack,” the Doctor said, laying a hand on his friend’s sleeve. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Jack replied warmly, then smirked. “Besides, now you owe me.”

“Not yet,” the Doctor retorted, “Not even close. You’ve still got about five more favors due to me before we can even think about—”

Jack chuckled as he set a course into his vortex manipulator. “Whatever,” he said before vanishing.

“Ohhh,” Clara breathed, crashing into a chair and catching her face in her hands again. She peeked at the Doctor’s curious, concerned face through her fingers and couldn’t help smiling at how dear he was. “We have so many things to talk about that I don’t even know where to start.”

“Clara, this prophecy…” He knelt in front of her chair, pressing his forehead lightly to hers. “We’ll have to think about what it means for the two of us, to us being together. I think we’ve probably been avoiding it up till now. Pretending it doesn’t matter, but what if it does?”

Clara kissed his lips impulsively, then assured him, “You’re giving Missy a lot of credit, assuming that she can actually create a self-fulfilling prophecy. She’s a Time Lord, not a God, Doctor.”

“I know that,” he agreed, “But the problem is that she’s right about the most vital part of it, Clara. I’m afraid there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save you if I thought you were in real danger. No law I wouldn’t crush under my heel; hell, I’d even enjoy the sight of that law crumbling into dust if it stood between you and me. If it meant that you would be safe. And I don’t know what that means because I can’t imagine a reality where I could ever be sensible about you.”

“I can’t imagine a reality where we split up because we’re too afraid of some sad old gossip started by your former school chum,” Clara answered, deeply moved by his words, yet firm as ever in her belief that they did not have to allow the Hybrid idea to control their destiny.

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you,” he whispered, kissing her with breathtaking tenderness. “I can’t stand the thought.”

Maybe there should have been more talk about the intricacies of fate and what they could possibly do about the addiction they felt to each other that seemed to blot everything else out when either of them were threatened. Maybe one day soon there would have to be.

But not tonight, Clara realized in relief, wrapping her arms around the Doctor’s neck as he lifted her off the ground and carried her to his room. Not tonight.

************************************************************************************

The Doctor didn’t know why he’d done that, just swept Clara right off her feet as if she were ill or a damsel in distress and conveyed her to his quarters like a thief in the night. None of those ideas had anything to do with the instinct, he determined to himself. He just needed to be with her and wanted to hold her, and it felt so right that he was doing it before he knew what happened. The Clara Effect.

She wasn’t complaining. Clara stared at the Doctor wonderingly as he lowered her to his bed, and he realized that he was dying to know what she was thinking. Could he just ask? Or maybe…perhaps he should give voice to another question that had been lingering in his mind since the night before…rather persistently, at that.

Clara lay beneath him, clinging to his arms as they breathed deeply, excited by the promise of what was about to happen, and he let the words go tumbling off of his tongue, almost exactly as if he was the kind of man who knew how to discuss such things. 

“Clara, do you ever think about me…when you’re alone?” He asked, and she averted her eyes immediately, blushing. *Aha*, he thought with combined mischief and arousal, *You started this.* He slowly unfastened the tiny buttons that ran down the front of her dress, and then the look of desire on Clara’s face removed any sense of amusement. He was hers, entirely, dependent on her every whim. Just as he always had been, the Doctor realized anew.

“Yes,” Clara admitted, slipping out of the dress and then wrapping her legs around his hips as they kissed, his fingers gripping her thighs. She pulled his t-shirt up over his head and their mouths collided once more as she brought him closer, the heat of him sliding against her. “Yes,” she whispered again, “I do.”

“And what do you think about?” the Doctor asked, his lips close to her ear. 

Clara laced her fingers through his and smiled, still blushing. “A lot of things. Sometimes, or a lot, actually, your hands. I love your hands. I think about…them holding me, and…” She took one of his fingers into her mouth and he felt his fever for her intensify.

“Really?” He asked, blushing slightly himself but not so self-conscious as to ignore her fantasies. Never that. The Doctor kissed Clara’s lips again, their tongues brushing together tantalizingly, and then ran his hands over her body, gradually but with an unabashed hunger. When he rubbed his fingers against her entrance, he was amazed at how completely prepared she was for him, the ease with which he could slide in and allow his touch to bring her the sensations she craved. The Doctor didn’t know how much more of this he could watch before he took her completely, and as Clara tightened around his fingers, he sighed, resting his head against her chest. “Doctor,” Clara said urgently, and he knew what she wanted, and just how to give it to her. Despite feeling like a clumsy fool in love throughout their whole relationship, now that he could be with Clara in the dizzying embrace of their passion, everything came to him naturally, because everything was right, the whole universe gone crooked and corrupt and blind with hatred around them entirely irrelevant if their exquisite union could continue. 

He’d sworn that nothing would ever tear them apart again, though he knew he didn’t have the power to make sure a vow like that held true. The Doctor did not hold the reins of destiny; he was just as entangled in them as anyone else, at the mercy of his own inability to ever prevent the thing he hated most: endings. 

Clara’s sleep was restless that night, and the Doctor knew she was wrestling with the same conundrums in her thoughts, so he just held her until they succumbed to dreams that veered from terrifying to euphoric and back again. In this, as in everything, they were together.


	7. Evolution

“I don’t like this,” the Doctor announced, his brow furrowing as his face took on its very grumpiest expression, the one that always made Clara have to hold back a laugh because it was a little too cute. He looked around the TARDIS console room at the friends who had gathered to protect him, wearing his discomfort on his sleeve.

“Well, it’s nice to see you again, too, Doctor,” Vastra remarked drily, perching her hands on her hips.

“As always, sir,” Jenny added with a small curtsy.

“I can’t say the same,” Strax complained, “Your faces have all grown increasingly uglier with time. Especially this boy.” He pointed at Clara, who shrugged. “However, this strange and vacuous person tells me that there’s a fight to be had, and that sounds mighty appealing!” He nodded to Jack, who waved with a smile.

“I said ‘maybe’ a fight,” Jack corrected him. “We’re hoping to call a truce with leaders of the various factions who’ve been hunting the Doctor. If they’re not interested in peace, that’s when we fight. It’s a worse-case-scenario.”

“You have no brain in your head if that’s what you call worst-case,” Strax retorted self-importantly. “For the glory of the battlefield is the only true joy this universe has to offer!”

“I hate this, actually,” the Doctor continued, “Let me be as specific as possible.” He rounded on Clara, gently clasping her shoulders and gazing at her with his blue eyes wide and pleading — as if he could get her to talk him out of what he was about to allow, but wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

“This is exactly what Missy was talking about when she started that blasted prophecy. I’m putting all of these people in danger because of you, Clara. Because I can’t bear the idea of how you’ll feel and what will happen to you if I die. I’m completely fixated on you, and it’s starting to change the way I make choices. If our friends die today, it will be because of my decision to put your needs before everyone else’s.”

“Doctor, will you please stop taking Missy’s word as law?” Clara asked, a crazy whirlwind of emotions swirling in her heart. He loved her so much that it was impossible not to feel irrepressible joy in hearing him express it with words. But his painful fear and self-blaming was going to drive him mad if she couldn’t talk some sense into him.

“Missy is my Professor Moriarty for a reason, Clara. She knows everything about me. She can predict outcomes involving me in a way that no one else can.”

“First of all, I’m a bit offended. Nobody knows you better than me, Doctor, and don’t you forget it,” Clara informed him crisply. “Now, are you and I completely fixated on one another? Yes, we are. We’re two people head over heels in love who finally gave into those feelings after two years or so of holding them in. It’s only natural that our behavior is going to change to make room for how our relationship is evolving, right?”

“Right,” the Doctor agreed thoughtfully.

“Well, then. We are not any more obsessed with each other than any other two slightly neurotic, headstrong, insufferably romantic people would be under the circumstances. Why should we have to accuse ourselves of being villains simply because Missy says our obsession is somehow responsible for all this completely unknowable and possibly never-gonna-happen gloom and doom?”

“We’re not just any two people, and you know it, Clara,” the Doctor insisted. “We can be very combustive together—”

“And I’m sure that was what Jay-Z said to Beyonce when he proposed,” Clara put in. “Now please, Doctor, really. ‘The heart has reasons which reason knows not,’ and a lot of the time, we make better decisions with our hearts than with our heads. Would you put your own life on the line to protect any one of us in this room?”

The Doctor glanced around. Vastra, Jenny and Jack all pretended to be chatting quietly together, though they were obviously listening in and trying to figure out what was going to happen next. Strax had fallen asleep in his chair and was snoring loudly.

“Of course I would,” he responded without a moment’s doubt.

“Then you can damn well show us the respect of allowing us to walk into this absurdly precarious villain’s summit and protect you to the best of our ability,” Clara said boldly.

“There’s just no arguing with you,” he noted in disbelief that he was caving to her request.

“Good, that’s the way I like it,” Clara smiled confidently. She stuck out her hand and the Doctor took it.

“We’re ready,” she announced to the others, who nodded and prepared to depart. Jack had investigated the sect of Silents who had pursued the Doctor with the threat of using the Daleks’ poison if he refused to separate from Clara. They were not a part of the larger Church of Silence, but an independent and small band who had caught wind of Missy’s prophecy. Worried after all of the calamity which they held the Doctor responsible for in the past, these Silents were determined to do anything necessary to prevent the Hybrid from reaching their destructive fate.  
He had contacted the group of Silents as well as the top-ranking Daleks and had them come to an unoccupied moon with a breathable atmosphere, a place where no innocent bystanders would be around to come into harm’s way if the meeting ended in battle.

The group of friends exited the TARDIS, coming face to face with five Silents huddled closely together, fully revealed and making no attempt to hide from sight. A few feet away, five Daleks were lined up in an imposing row, their antennae twitching, tempted to fire at the Doctor on sight. The Doctor didn’t even question for a moment the obvious fact that they were probably prepared to blast him with the poison they’d created. Although he should have been thinking of what he was going to say and how he was going to get himself and his friends out of there afterwards, the Doctor was so worried about staying near to Clara and shielding her from any possible danger that his head felt like it was spinning.

He thought back to Clara’s words. Yes, this romantic part of their relationship had been suppressed for a very long time, and now that they had stopped pretending, the sweep of emotion taking him over was strong enough to be more distracting than any he’d ever known. The way he seemed to get weak-kneed by his emotions in this twelfth incarnation, how he fought every moment to keep his feelings in check and follow common sense, had caused him to put up a front of reserved, flinty snobbery that was rapidly disintegrating. What was left behind? That was the question that troubled him.

Was he evolving into a warrior now, an impulsive, passion-driven man who couldn’t trust himself? Or could he let his hearts into his decision-making process and still make the right calls? Could leading with the hearts instead of the cold calculations of his intellect actually help to bring an affirmative answer to that question which had been haunting him lately: *Am I a good man, Clara?* Oh, how he wondered, how these quandaries twisted and pulled at his consciousness until he finally got a handle on himself, turning to face his foes with a lump in his throat and hearts filled to bursting with all of that overpowering emotion that seemed to continually characterize him in this incarnation.

The Doctor took a deep breath. Here he was. This was him now. He wasn’t that wise-cracking, young-looking, bow-tie fiddling, ever-evasive beanpole anymore. Now he was an older-looking beanpole who faced his problems head-on and admitted how he truly felt. He had the chance to use the force of his emotions as a strength instead of letting them sweep him away into the weakness of perpetual waffling and indecision. Oddly, and quite unexpectedly, this moment found the Doctor feeling more like a grown-up than he had in ages. It seemed ironic, considering how he’d felt more like a 2,000 year old lovestruck teenager than anything else lately, yet somehow it was true.

The Doctor pressed his palms into his grey plaid pants and then leveled his most imposing glare at the Silents before turning it to the Daleks.

“We have waited long enough for you to being speaking, Doctor,” One Dalek cried out accusingly. “Why have you summoned us here? Pure idiocy would seem to be out of the question, given what we know of your intelligence, yet we fail to conceive of an alternative explanation!”

The Silents merely stood there and stared blankly at the Doctor. What they actually felt about him, whether it was hatred, terror, pity, or all of the above, he couldn’t tell.

“When it comes to pure idiocy, I think you’ve got the market cornered,” the Doctor retorted. “And when it comes to dangerous, reckless crusades based on the nonsense fluff of rumors, you’re the champions, Quiet Brigade,” he added, nodding at the Silents. “But let’s get on with it, shall we?” He licked his lips, compelled onward as words sprang into his head, not knowing what else to do. “The charming little tangerine concoction you’ve devised to turn me into your especially handsome meat puppet doesn’t work on me anymore.” He locked his angry eyes on the Daleks, who bristled, shifting back and forth, lights flashing and antennae bobbing in panicked aggravation.

He moved on to address the Silents. “And as for your threat of ending me with the bullets made out of said poison, you can forget about that as well. Oh, I know how convenient it would be for you to take me out of commission forever, Silents. After all, I’m always getting up to shenanigans that cause you distress, aren’t I? I never actually *know* about these shenanigans of mine when you come after me, because you’ve got a nasty habit of cherry-picking events that possibly maybe someday *might* happen. Well, let me provide you with a piece of very solid intel. The only prophecy about the Hybrid that you can believe to be fully confirmed.” The Doctor glanced at Clara, adoration flickering in his eyes for that moment before they reverted to consternation as he faced the Silents.

“As long as that woman lives, if she wants me by her side, we will never be apart,” he vowed. “And there’s nothing you can do about it. If you bothered to find out anything about who we actually are, then you’d know we’ll work about as hard as you can imagine to make sure we make the most morally sound choices we can at every turn. We’re not perfect, but by the definition I’ve come to believe in thanks to knowing Clara, who is an exceptional teacher, by the way…we are good. Believe that. And know that my immunity to that poison means that we are done here. You Daleks can stop selling it, because anyone who buys it is going to be pretty upset when they discover you’ve ripped them off. If you all particularly care to continue living, I recommend that you stay out of our way, and we will be more than happy to avoid you, unless you make it our business to confront you again.”

He looked at Clara, saw her deeply approving expression, and shrugged. “That’s fair, right?” he murmured. She laughed softly and nodded, taking his hand.

A long silence followed the Doctor’s speech. Everyone glanced back and forth at each other. Clara, Vastra, Jenny, and Jack wore warmly affectionate faces, proud of the Doctor’s words, while Strax groaned irritably. “Doesn’t seem like there’s going to be a fight, unless the tin cans and silly putty thingies are all idiots,” he muttered in disappointment. “Why does he have to be so good at pontificating? It’s heartbreakingly bad for those of us who enjoy violence.”

“What reason do we have to believe you?” the Daleks demanded feistily, having finally locked onto something they could still argue about, a reason to continue the conflict with the Doctor, who rolled his eyes.

“I had two of the most brilliant scientists in the universe create an antidote that will be pumping through my veins every day for the rest of my life until all of you wise up and stop bothering to come near me with the poison,” the Doctor explained. “Now are we finished?”

“Not yet,” one of the Silents piped up, finally giving voice to their role in the proceedings. Unfortunately, the Silents were, by definition, not inclined to much talk. They had absorbed the Doctor’s words carefully, but their utter obsession with righting the wrongs they perceived in what they could gather about the future kept them dead-set on their original agenda. Taking everyone by surprise, the Silent quickly and deftly took out a weapon and fired it directly at the Doctor, orange bullet hurtling mercilessly through the air with a cruel hiss.

“No!” Clara screamed, shoving the Doctor to the ground with such fast and brutal adrenaline-born strength that he could never have predicted it or stopped himself falling backwards. The bullet tore into Clara’s shoulder and she gave a groan of pain that nearly stopped his hearts. It ripped through her and crashed into the rocky ground beside them. It had left the orange substance in Clara’s body, and only an empty, clear casing now lay there.

The Doctor grabbed onto Clara, lifting her up and running for the TARDIS. Meanwhile, the band of friends assembled behind them rushed forward, weapons at the ready, making a beeline for the Silents. The Dalek who had spoken before announced, “This is a pointless altercation. When we have manufactured a proven method of defeating the Doctor, we will come for him! Until then, we shall depart.” They floated through the air before zooming back to their ship, leaving Jack, Vastra, Jenny, and Strax facing off with the Silents.

Strax walked up to the Silent who had fired at the Doctor and knocked the weapon from his fist, a look of utter contempt etched across his face. “I hardly think you can object to my taking my foul mood at the moment, as well as my perpetual bloodthirst, out on this creature!” Strax said to the others.

“No, I really can’t,” Vastra replied icily.

“No, indeed,” Jenny added, anger over the injury they’d caused to Clara, and what they’d tried to do to the Doctor, evident in her determined face.

“Have at it,” Jack put in with a deceptive lightness. Anyone looking at him could clearly see that he’d had enough of watching his friends being hurt for no good reason. In fact, he was so far past sick of it that the poison in his gaze as he looked at the Silents was more frightening than any deadly toxin an enemy could devise.

Strax punched the Silent in the face so hard that he went flying, while the other Silents stood stock still, assessing the situation. They didn’t have much use for violence unless they deemed it the only way to solve a given problem. With the Doctor protected by such formidable friends, and themselves isolated as the scant few Silents invested in this particular cause, they failed to see the logic in pursuing the matter any further right then. 

“I wish we had been given the opportunity to make absolutely sure that this poison will not kill the Doctor,” One of them finally reflected, quietly, staring back unflinching as the Doctor’s friends stood ready for any further battle.

That same Silent saw the bitterness in Jack’s eyes and added, “We truly do not have any other reason to wish him harm except that it will save millions of lives.”

Jack strode closer to the Silent and said tersely, “Get out of here.”

“And leave the Doctor alone,” Vastra added. “We are far from the only ones ready to protect that man. In fact, there are whole planets full of people who would go to war on his behalf out of sheer gratitude, if they were only notified that he was in peril. This is an extremely foolish game you’ve tried to play, and now it is at an end.”

The Silents did not deign to reply, but merely stepped back and nodded their agreement.

“They’re damn smug even when they’ve been soundly defeated!” Strax observed with virile resentment. “May I please punch the rest of them in the face? Or possibly disembowel the lot?”

“No,” Jack said, still staring down the Silent he’d spoken with. “They don’t deserve the effort.” The Silents had pushed him right to the edge of his breaking point, and it was lucky for them that they had backed off. He could easily imagine beating them all to a pulp in a blind rage just to assuage his own ongoing grief for everything he’d lost thanks to short-sighted know-it-alls like the Silents. His blood still boiled, but Jack walked away.

He turned, along with Jenny and Vastra, back towards the TARDIS, with Strax trailing them, still complaining. “But it would be fun!” He insisted.

“No,” Vastra told him, well used to the necessity of saying this particular syllable to her irascible friend.

*******************************************************************  
“Clara,” the Doctor said frantically, feeling her forehead as he lowered her to his bed. Beside him, Vastra hovered, examining the patient and using a handheld scanner to discover the extent of Clara’s internal injuries.

“Why would you do that? Why would you even *do* that?” he asked, desperation making his stomach churn. “I would have been fine; I have the antidote in my system!”

“How do we know for sure it works?” Clara asked weakly, “I couldn’t take that risk.”

“I didn’t want you to do that for me!” the Doctor objected, but she shook her head critically.

“Doctor, cut it out. You would have done the same for me.” She coughed, sweat beading her skin. “I’d do it again, so don’t try and talk me out of it after the fact. There’s better use for your breath. Come here.”

He sat down obediently, placing his fingers to the side of her face lightly, seeing that she was overheated and not wanting to add to that, yet needing to show her comfort and care. “Closer,” Clara requested, and he leaned down further. “Say ‘sexual’ again,” she murmured with a wink.

“This is no time for joking!” He argued, but she clucked her tongue.

“‘Always laugh, because it’s always funny,’” Clara reminded him, quoting one of his own favorite sayings.

He half-laughed, a sob mixed in there somewhere. The smile died from Clara’s lips and she said gently, “I’m going to be okay. Please don’t worry.”

“Vastra?” He asked, not breaking eye contact with Clara, thankful at least for her relative lucidity.

“The damage to her from actually being shot was minimal, all things considered,” Vastra explained hurriedly as Jenny appeared with antiseptic and bandages. Jenny went very capably about the process of cleaning Clara’s wound and binding it with the cloths as the Doctor stepped aside.

“She’s certainly going to feel the effects of the truth serum,” Vastra told the Doctor under her breath, her green scales glimmering in the blue lights of the room. “And there’s something else you need to know. She has Time Lord DNA in her now, and the consequences of that are highly unpredictable.”

This was what he had been most afraid of. Not another loved one seized by the overpowering effects of Time Lord biology attacking the human mind. He couldn’t bear to see it happen to Donna, and had sworn to himself that was the last time it would occur on his watch. Still, in order to stave off his anxiety, he asked, “How does she seem to be processing the change?”

“Well, so far,” Vastra revealed cautiously, trying not to send his hopes flying to unrealistic heights. “But she’ll need to be watched very closely for the next few days to make sure. It will most likely help that she’s traveled with you for so long in the TARDIS, acclimating her to a piece of your world and the flow of the time stream that makes up so much of what a Time Lord is. Even more encouraging: Clara has splintered into echoes within your lifetime, making her integral to the whole structure of your life. That has all given her body past experience with Time Lord biology. And from that bullet, she also had such a tiny dose of the DNA enter her system that the impact on her will hopefully be appropriately minimal.”

“Okay,” the Doctor replied, pulling off his black jacket, then his hooded sweater. He felt as if he was burning up under the stress and pressure of the situation, fighting for control over himself once again. He swallowed, rubbed his hands together nervously, and nodded. “Thank you,” he said to Jenny and Vastra. 

Vastra, not normally all that given to displays of affection, couldn’t help giving the Doctor a hug. “All will be well, Doctor,” she assured him, “I can sense it somehow.”

“Me, too,” Jenny added, tears of empathy and concern shining in her eyes. “She’s just got to be alright, Doctor.”

“We’ll make sure of it,” Jack said, appearing in the room with a grimly certain expression. “I’m not losing another friend, Doctor. Whatever I can do to help, you let me know.”

Strax came in and stood at Jack’s side, his features and voice notably subdued. “That goes for me as well, Sir. And I’m deeply sorry for criticizing the boy’s hideous face earlier.”

“I appreciate that, Strax,” the Doctor answered quietly, sitting by Clara and watching as her eyelids began to flutter downward, her body craving rest to heal itself. A light shimmer of regeneration energy emanated from her all of a sudden, but he schooled himself not to panic. He remembered Vastra’s words and the simple fact that they were already doing all they could, and would continue to do so. As Jack had said, they would make sure she was alright, because they had to. The bright, coppery energy sparkled and then slowly dissipated, possibly helping to restore Clara’s strength.

“Goodnight, Doctor,” Vastra concluded respectfully, “We’ll be nearby.”

He nodded again and lay down beside Clara with delicate concern, not pressing too close. He swept a dampened strand of hair from her forehead and then kissed her relaxed, moist brow. 

Half-asleep, Clara’s lips curved in a smile once more as she sighed with the natural pleasure of being close to him. “Doctor, the words you said to the Silents, about never being apart from me as long as I live…” The honesty from the serum within her surged forth. “…they sounded like wedding vows.”

“I suppose they did,” he admitted.

“Well, even if it was you saying them and not me, I meant every word,” Clara said, slightly hoarsely.

“Shh,” he urged her attentively. “Rest, now. It’s the best thing for you. Sleep, and then come back to me, Clara Oswald.”

“I’ll always come back to you, Doctor,” she promised him.


	8. Just the Doctor and Clara Oswald, in the TARDIS

“Clara!” the Doctor exclaimed in surprise a couple of days later when he turned from the controls of the TARDIS to see her walking towards him. Not only was she up out of bed, but she was walking around and had taken a shower this morning, her hair still damp as she dabbed at it with a towel. Clara lifted an eyebrow at his disapproving look.

“Doctor, I am *fine*, she assured him, swatting him lightly with the towel. He grabbed it and used it to gently draw her into his arms. “I feel…” Clara tilted her head to one side, considering the topic more deeply. “I feel wonderful, actually.” She laughed at the improbability that she had come out of this so entirely fine and kissed his frowning mouth. _Always, always so cute when he’s grumpy,_ Clara thought.

“You have been exposed to Time Lord biology, and we have no way of knowing how it will change you over time,” he warned.

“Doctor, really!” Clara joked, “I think you’re giving yourself a lot of credit for your sexual prowess.”

He sighed, taking her by the shoulders. “I’m worried about you!”

“I can see that,” she said, more subdued. “But Doctor, we’ve just cleared two major catastrophes. The Daleks will never be coming after you with the serum again, and as for the Silence…I think Jack and the others actually might have scared them off. I don’t mind getting shot for that.” 

“That’s great, Clara, really, how nice for you! Cheers for that! Well, guess what — _I_ mind!” 

“You’re adorable when you’re sarcastic as well, and possibly more Scottish than ever, which shouldn’t technically even be possible,” Clara mused, aloud this time. “I know you mind, but don’t forget that I survived. Even the mind control symptoms are gone, and the regeneration energy, whatever tiny bit of it I absorbed, seems to have gone into healing me.”

“Clara, get back into bed right now and rest!” the Doctor insisted, but she shook her head stubbornly. “Ah, good,” he reflected, “Just making sure the truth serum was really out of your system.” He paused before declaring, fingers splayed decisively in the air, “We’ll have to give you a full exam.” 

“I hope so,” she replied saucily.

“Stop it, you,” the Doctor commanded, giving into a smile at last. Clara obediently sat down as he scanned her with the handheld device which allowed the TARDIS computer to analyze her physiology.

“This is all wrong,” he sighed. 

“What, does it say I’m going to grow an extra heart? Or not an extra something else!” Clara blurted, touching her face. “I don’t want another nose or anything.” 

“Of course not. I’m not even talking about the readings. They’re fine; they suggest that the Time Lord DNA has acclimated into your body with no damage or change except to strengthen your immune system considerably.”

“Well, that’s a good thing…is that it?” Clara wondered.

“You may also notice an upgrade to your intellect and your ability to analyze things quickly, but I doubt we’ll even notice any change,” he added, and she grinned back at his adoring and flirtatious smile.

“You old smoothie,” she accused him.

“Guilty as charged, where you’re concerned,” the Doctor confessed. “But what I meant before…it’s all wrong that you’re here with me, in harm’s way every second we’re together, which is perfectly apparent now — as if it weren’t clear enough before. Sometimes I think you should be back with Danny, safe and content, in the normal, human world.”

“Danny is lovely,” Clara replied smoothly, “But I’m in love with you. And in case you hadn’t noticed, our shared love of adventure is a big part of what makes the relationship between you and me so special. Can you really picture me just going back to my old life and being happy?”

“No,” the Doctor allowed, sitting down beside her, “But I’m not lovely.”

“No indeed,” Clara answered honestly, “You’re only amazing, brave, selfless, a genius, a hero, annoyingly gorgeous, and stop fishing for compliments, would you?”

“I’m not selfless,” He argued. She giggled. Out of that list of adjectives, only one of them triggered the slightest bit of humility in him.

He took her hand, his expression darkening again. Clara sighed. He could be exhausting sometimes. _Sometimes?_ She let out a chortle.

“If I was selfless, I would let you go,” the Doctor announced. 

“I don’t want to be let go,” she reminded him, lifting his hand to her lips. She kissed it, then pressed it against her cheek and he surrendered to a smile, tired from worry and self-accusation.

“How can I get you to relax and just…accept happiness?” Clara asked, still holding his hand.

“I am happy,” the Doctor clarified, “This is what I look like when I’m happy: scared. Because if I’m happy, there’s got to be a catch.”

“No catch, no fine print, no red tape,” Clara insisted, kissing his fingers between each item she listed. “You and me, together, here and now, that’s what counts. Every day we get is precious and magical. Trust in that. Let the rest of it go.”

“Help me?” The Doctor implored, turning his hand around to cup her face. She leaned in to tenderly kiss his lips and tasted his answering smile. “Do you really feel all better?” He asked, and she nodded, staring into his eyes, hypnotized all over again by the power of their bond.

“Good,” he responded huskily, pulling her onto his lap. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jack said casually, striding into the console room as he shrugged his coat on. “I just wanted to come and say goodbye, actually.” He wasn’t cracking jokes about the Doctor and Clara’s obviously sexy positioning, and there was a sadness in his gentle smile. Clara hopped down from the Doctor’s lap and walked over to their friend.

“Are you sure?” She asked kindly, “You’re more than welcome to stay, come on some more adventures with us. We’d love to have you.”

“Aren’t you going to say ‘speak for yourself,’ Doctor?” Jack asked archly, but the Doctor shook his head. 

“Not this time, Jack. You know you’re always welcome. Couldn’t have survived this without you. _Wouldn’t_ have, actually, because without you two basically forcing me to let you risk your lives to protect me, I would either be a Dalek slave or have catatonic jello brain thanks to the Silence.”

“You’re welcome,” Jack replied with a small bow. “But there’s something about being back here, even meeting you, Clara, and seeing what you two have together…even though our time here has been amazing, after a while…it just reminds me of what I’ve lost. And thinking about that too much hurts until I feel the need to run very far away and forget myself all over again.”

Clara had known Jack was carrying the burden of some past trauma, and had been wondering about it all along, unwilling to dredge it all up by asking him. He saw the mingled curiosity and concern in her soft brown eyes and nodded.

“I used to have my own team,” Jack explained, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I loved them, and they’re gone now, almost all of them. Same goes for my family, what’s left of it. For the part of that which is my fault, I can’t seem to forgive myself, and I probably never will. As for the rest of it, I guess it’s scared me off of ever putting myself out there again, being part of something, the way you two are part of each other. Partners. A team.”

“Jack, you had no choice,” the Doctor said quietly, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “If you hadn’t sacrificed that boy—”

“There’s always a choice. There’s always another way, Doctor. You taught me that. I just couldn’t find it in time, and that’s on me.” Jack’s grief was inexorable, carefully hidden most of the time, but dark and unrelentingly obvious in his eyes now.

“Oh, Jack,” Clara murmured, tears of empathy springing into her eyes. She hugged Jack tightly, feeling his arms, at first hesitant to accept her comfort, finally return the embrace. 

“Oh, come on, then,” the Doctor added helplessly, wrapping his long arms around the both of them.

“I’ve wanted a group hug since the moment this adventure began,” Jack confessed with a tearful laugh.

“It’ll be okay,” Clara assured Jack when they all pulled back. “You deserve everything good in this life, Jack, including your own forgiveness.”

“You know, saving the universe is a whole lot harder _without_ Torchwood,” the Doctor put in with a wink. “You might want to think about getting a new team together, Jack. For everyone’s sake.”

Jack blew out a heavy sigh, looking grateful that he’d given vent to his feelings and confided in them. “I’ll think about it,” he said, a new light of hope in his eyes. He grinned at them. “Yeah. I really will think about that. And I’ll see the two of you around.” He dialed a course setting into his vortex manipulator and added, “Oh, and Clara, congrats on the regenerations! How cool is that? See ya!” 

As Jack disappeared, Clara rounded on the Doctor, shock settling over her as he averted his eyes. “What’s he on about?” She asked, confused and suspicious, shocked and…she didn’t even know what, actually. Pleased? Terrified? Yes, all of the above.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he admitted, “You’ve every right to be cross that I didn’t say so right away, Clara, but…it does appear that the Time Lord DNA did a lot more than bolster your immune system and hone your intellect totally unnecessarily. According to our latest analysis, you might have as many as two regenerations in you now.”

Clara felt the room beginning to spin around her, though the TARDIS was not in motion. On the one hand, this meant that the age difference and life expectancy gap between herself and the Doctor had now narrowed to the point of barely being a problem anymore. On the other…she quaked at the idea of being in a new body one day, of being so completely different, the unpredictability of what that would be _like._

“You’re cross with me, aren’t you?” The Doctor fretted, perilously close to hand-wringing.

Clara shook her head. “I’m not mad, Doctor, I am scared. Very scared. Far too much so to be angry, and anyway,” Clara’s words tumbled out in a nervous fervor, “that’s rule one, right? The Doctor lies.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to lie to you, Clara,” he said softly, penitently. “I was procrastinating.”

“I’m not sure that if the tables were turned, I would have told you right away either,” Clara reflected, tugging her bottom lip and then ruffling her hair. She crossed her arms and paced around the console a few times, another habit they had in common.

The Doctor came tentatively towards her from the opposite direction and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “This may sound selfish of me, but I see this as an extra layer of protection around you, and that sounds awfully good to me, so much so that I’m having a hard time analyzing the disadvantages as one sensitively would,” he admitted. 

“Well, that’s being honest, at least,” Clara replied with a small smile. She leaned up to kiss his forehead and added, “I do see the advantages. This is just very new and surreal for me. And I do _feel_ different.” She looked down at her hand, stretched her fingers.

“You told me you felt fine,” He reminded her.

“I feel great!” She clarified, trying to fully understand the sensations that were ruling her. “I feel like I’m in the best health of my life, and I’m strong. As far as the intellectual bit, sure. I’m feeling exceptionally sharp, but like you said, what else is new?” She winked and he did a double-take.

“Did you just wink?” The Doctor asked, confused. “I thought you were scared.”

“That’s how I know I’m alive,” Clara insisted, resting her hand against his hearts over his faded t-shirt. “Whatever this is, Doctor, and whatever it means for me, we will figure it out. I am…” She considered her next words carefully before continuing, “I am fantastically alive, I’m with the man I love and I finally don’t have to go around lying about my feelings and angsting myself into a ball of nervous distraction. I just want to be here, with you, and take it from there. Okay?”

“If that makes you happy,” He answered, that innocent and almost boyish look of hope lighting his face up. Clara loved that look. She’d loved it since the first time she had seen it, when he’d asked her if she wanted to be “home” on the TARDIS, and she had run from him at first, overwhelmed and baffled by his regeneration. Unable to believe that she could love this version of the Doctor the same way she had the previous one; how could they truly be one and the same? The understanding she held under the surface, that she knew very well they were the same man and that she loved him still, had been too much to fully comprehend at the moment. She’d been processing the goosebumps and butterflies his smile provoked when the phone rang and everything came full circle, assuring her that with the Doctor was where she belonged. It was where she’d stayed, whether physically or just in her heart, ever since.

“You make me happy,” Clara reminded him with a kiss. “I used to wonder if there was a time or a place in the whole universe of possibilities where we could ever come together and just be honest. Just be us, and be in love. I didn’t know it was going to take Daleks, the Silence, orange truth serum, and Captain Jack Harkness for us to get there, or that I’d end up with two extra lifetimes, but in the end, through every insane detail, the most important part for me is that we _did_ get here.”

“Most bits of mischief do involve Jack,” the Doctor joked, his eyes twinkling. “Clara, I think I’m the luckiest man alive. Because there is somewhere for you and me, impossible girl. And it’s with each other. Whatever happens, we’ll always have that, and it’s everything.”

“Glad we agree,” Clara grinned, looking all of a sudden quite mischievous herself. “Now,” she nodded to the controls and that lever that was just far too fun to pull down. “Where to next?”

“It’s up to you,” the Doctor replied easily. “The stars are yours, Clara Oswald. Take me somewhere amazing.”


End file.
